Author's Note: Finally done with chapter 2! For those following the other side of this story, A Repulsion of Denial, another chapter should be out soon. I'm working on it in tandem with this one, and it made much more sense to finish this chapter first for the continuity of it all.

Anyhow, enjoy! As a usual disclaimer, I own nothing, and as a warning this is still rated M, but likely not in a way you'd prefer. Sorry! I promise I'll make it up to you all.

I didn't go to work the next day, or the day after that. I informed the Ministry in a succinct note that I unexpectedly needed to take some time off, and that I would return as soon as I could. I expected a rebuttal, some sort of reprimand for my sudden absence, but no one questioned it. For once I was thankful that my name carried its reputation.

If Ron noticed anything amiss with me when I informed him I'd stayed home due to illness, he didn't show it. He carried on in his usual cheery way, chattering on about how the Chudley Cannons were sure to do well this season with their new lineup, or how brilliantly he and the other Aurors had executed their latest raid.

"You really should come down and visit us more, 'Mione," he said at dinner on the second night of my absence. "It's loads more fun than those stuffy old offices over by you. I mean, it's no wonder you got sick. I'd be sick all the time if I were stuck in one of those cooped-up rooms, with Lucius Malfoy of all people."

The mention of his name sent a horrible sort of thrill rushing through me, a mixture of sweeping guilt and infuriating desire. I tried to tamp down the latter of those immediately, to forget the burn of his lips against mine, the perfect fulfillment of him inside me...I shook my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts.

"You alright, Hermione?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Fine," I replied a little too soon, my voice a little too high. "I'm fine. Just a little out of sorts from this bug I've got. I think I'll go to bed now."

"Alright...I'll be in later, there's a match on and I want to catch at least some of it."

I nodded, assuming that would be the case. Ron had taken to having a television in our flat immediately, managing to find out that nearly every Muggle sport fascinated him when he watched it. I dragged myself to the bedroom and closed the door just as I heard the start of cheers and shouting from the living room.

Alone in bed, my thoughts unwittingly began to drift. For the countless time in two days I thought of a certain long-haired blonde man. Flashes of his forceful touch, his heated gaze...I squeezed my eyes shut tight as if that might expel the visions from my mind. It didn't work.

Instead I found myself becoming increasingly frustrated, and increasingly aroused. One of my hands slipped under the waistband of my pajamas of its own accord. My fingers trailed downward as my mind conjured the image of Lucius, hard and hot and ready, his eyes never leaving mine as he thrust himself inside me. I was hardly surprised to find myself already wet and wanting.

Two of my fingers curled up inside myself, my body already primed in overwhelming desire. With my eyes still closed it became unnervingly easy to imagine Lucius's hardness within me, moving in perfect rhythm, hitting every delicious spot seemingly without effort. My thumb rubbed over my swollen nub and I tumbled over the edge of pleasure with the sound of his deep, silken voice at the front of my mind.

"Hermione…"

I moaned, shuddering slightly in residual pleasure, thinking of the way he said my name…

"Hermione?"

I froze. Suddenly it felt like somebody had tossed me into a pool of icy water. That voice was certainly not the voice I had been picturing. I opened my eyes but found myself apparently unable to move anything else, and I was very aware of my legs splayed across the bed, my hand still trapped beneath the hem of my pajamas.

"Blimey, if you'd told me this is why you wanted to go to bed…"

Ron was grinning in the doorway. He tugged his shirt off and tossed it carelessly across the room before crawling onto the bed.

"I thought it might help me fall asleep," I offered in weak explanation. Ron didn't seem to mind.

"Hey, you don't need to explain it to me."

One of his arms had found its way around my waist, effectively moving my hand from its position inside my pants. He tugged me closer and nuzzled my neck.

"D'you want to…"

I paused at his unfinished question. Did I want to? I'd known where he was headed, of course- I could hardly miss it from his wide grin and obvious approval of my actions- but did I want to go there with him? I thought about it for a moment, breathing deep the familiar scent of him. Grass, and linen...comforting and sweet.

Leather and parchment…

No.

I forced that thought out of my head and smiled. I hoped it passed for seductive, and it seemed to given Ron's enthusiastic scramble to shed the rest of his clothes. I almost laughed at the endearing predictability of it, his boyish eagerness a comfort.

Steady hands pulling at my clothing…

I shook my head, hiding it in the motions of removing my pajamas. Ron gave an appreciative grin as he looked me over.

"Bloody hell, you're gorgeous."

His lips met mine in a routined kiss; we'd settled into that quickly, at the beginning of our relationship. I had never had any complaints- kissing Ron was always exceedingly nice. It took awhile to realize that it wasn't ever anything more than that. Still, in the grand scheme of things, it was hardly an issue. After all, I'd always liked it. But at that moment I found myself opposed to it for the first time ever. It suddenly seemed utterly repellant.

Not wanting to address that, I simply tilted my head so that his lips caught my neck instead. I reached down toward his willing hardness in order to encourage him. Luckily (at that moment it felt like luck, at least) Ron had never had much patience for foreplay, and I was still slick and ready from earlier. He positioned himself quickly and thrust, burying himself inside of me.

I tried to focus on the moment, on conjuring the typical feelings I had during sex with Ron. His presence was always a comfort, and I enjoyed the familiarity of him inside me even if it did often end in mild disappointment. I closed my eyes.

Linen and grass.

Suddenly it was far easier to push thoughts of another man away. I clung to Ron, inhaling the sweet simplicity of him, wrapping my legs around his waist to push him deeper. The new angle allowed him to better reach within me. It wasn't perfect, but it did serve to stoke the flames within me, a delicious burn rising with each movement of his hips. I moaned aloud and he responded with a grunt.

"'Mione," he warned, "I can't last...too good…"

I took that as a compliment, which made it easier to stave off the disappointment when I felt him spill inside me, leaving my own mounting need to taper, unsatisfied.

He slipped out quickly, falling breathless at my side and throwing a hand over my belly. I tucked myself in against him, too tired to even want to take care of myself. Instead I found comfort in the linen and grass scent of him and closed my eyes, dutifully pushing away any lingering thoughts that drifted through my brain.

"Night, 'Mione," Ron yawned, already starting to doze off.

I managed to smile, watching him. "Goodnight, Ron."

Despite my exhaustion sleep didn't come easily that night, as it hadn't for the two nights prior. Ron's gentle snoring provided a background hum to my restlessness, a soundtrack to my abhorrent behavior. The thoughts had returned with full, torturous force. I saw Lucius Malfoy's face every time I closed my eyes, felt his body in rhythm against mine with every breath I took, wished deeply for him with every unsteady beat of my heart.

After a third night of tossing and turning in weak, dream-ridden bouts of what barely counted as sleep, I was positively miserable. I barely managed my quick goodbye to Ron before he left for work, leaving me alone in the flat with only my thoughts.

This is ridiculous, I scolded myself in a sharpened voice. You have a wonderful boyfriend that you love, and you're sitting here pining over Lucius Malfoy? What is the matter with you?

My irritating internal voice was right, of course. I had a perfect boyfriend in Ron; someone I'd grown and shared my life with, someone who supported me (if sometimes grudgingly), someone who loved me. And of course someone I loved in return...though the twitchy part at the back of my mind wondered if that meant I was truly in love with him. I sighed, not wanting to answer to that bit, as I felt a headache coming on at the thought of it.

I decided to lose myself in a book. After picking out a volume I'd been meaning to get to off of my overstuffed bookshelf I curled up on the living room couch and settled in, hoping it would take my mind off of everything. It seemed to work well enough, as the outside world seemed to melt away just as it always did when I started reading. In fact, the only reason I returned to it was because a loud knock at the door startled me out of my concentration.

I frowned. I'd warded the apartment against intruders, using a tricky charm that would set off alarms on anyone dark, dangerous, or intending to cause harm. I wasn't expecting any mail I might need to sign for. And anyone who might visit either had a key, knew the unlocking spells, or would use the fireplace.

Wand in hand, I set my book aside and stepped over to the front door. A silly but very real part of me hoped at who I might see on the other side of the door. I didn't truly let myself start to think on it, though, until I unlatched the lock and opened the door to find the man I'd been thinking about so obsessively standing there. I froze, stunned, staring at Lucius Malfoy before me.

Like I said...sorry! This chapter fought me for awhile because as it turns out, it is not easy for me to write a RonxHermione sex scene. I'd never done that before. But thankfully I will be better serving my M-rating soon. ;)