Chapter 4: Game On

Like most people, Hermione had set up non-Apparition zones in her home, so she appeared out of the sight of her neighbors near the dustbins and walked up the stairs to the front door.

Horatio ran toward her when she opened the door, and she scooped him up and carried him into the parlor. "You're getting so big," she told the cat. He purred a response.

There was evidence that Ron was home. The Daily Prophet was spread out on the ottoman in front of his favorite club chair and the fire was going. "Ron?" she called out. She pulled her cloak off and draped it over the back of the other club chair and ventured into the house. She found him in her study, sitting at her desk looking at a photo album. She was unnerved for a moment until she realized it was her old school album. "Ron?" she said again.

He looked up at her and his expression was difficult to read. He seemed a little sad, but he definitely didn't look angry and that threw her.

"Hullo, luv," he said softly.

Hullo, luv is good, Hermione thought. "Hullo," she said cautiously. She crossed the room and stood beside him. "What are you looking at?"

"School pics," he said.

She could see that the page was open to a picture of the two of them taken seventh year. They were in the common room. Ron was sitting on one of the sofas and she was sitting on the floor between his legs facing the camera. The picture repeated him leaning over and kissing her and her laughing over and over again. "I love that one," she said.

"Me too," Ron said. "It's probably my favorite."

Hermione considered the picture. "We look like babies."

"We were babies, and I think that's the problem." Ron said sadly.

Hermione felt an icy chill race through her. "What do you mean?" she managed to choke out.

Ron turned to face her and put his hands on her hips. He looked up at her. "Just that I have a tendency to gloss over the part where we grew up."

Hermione pushed his fringe off his forehead. "I don't understand."

Ron pulled her to him until she sat in his lap. "Ever since we got back together, even after the World Cup when I should have known better, I've had this tendency to think of us in one unbroken stream."

Hermione struggled to follow his thinking.

"I skip the part where we were ever with other people," Ron explained.

"Oh," Hermione said softly.

"I realize now how stupid that is," Ron continued. "It just leaves me vulnerable to what happened today. And I realized when you brought up Michelle so casually, that you don't do that. You don't pretend that we were always together. Only I do that."

She ran her fingers through his beard and it occurred to her then, how much she missed seeing his face without it. She didn't know what to say to his confession; she didn't know how she felt about it even. Right now, she didn't care. She leaned down and pressed her lips to his, running her tongue between them, requesting entrance.

He opened his mouth to her and brought his hand up to cup her face and to stroke her earlobe between his thumb and forefinger, which made her feel warm all over. It was a gesture that was completely his. No one else she'd ever kissed did that, so it made her heart sing every time he did.

When he pulled out of the kiss he touched his forehead to hers. "When do we need to leave for the funeral?"

Hermione drew back from him. "We?"

"You shouldn't have to face it alone," Ron said, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. He shook his head sadly. "You've had to face too many deaths alone."

Hermione closed her eyes. "We should leave tomorrow."

Ron nodded. "Are you hungry? Winky's out done herself in the kitchen, so I gave her the evening off."

Hermione got off his lap and headed toward the kitchen. She was hungry and the whiskey sitting in her empty stomach wasn't helping matters.

"We're in the dining room tonight," Ron said.

She shifted directions and followed him. The dining room table was set with the best china, two intimate place settings. He tapped his wand against the table and dinner appeared in the plates. The candelabra suddenly lit and soft music began playing.

"She certainly did go all out," Hermione mused as she looked at the lamb chop, mint jelly, parsnips and chard that appeared on her plate. "I wonder what possessed her."

Run shrugged, but he was smiling.

Dinner passed mostly in a companionable silence, with just the occasional question and answer about travel plans. Hermione had already arranged for time off, a Portkey and a hotel room. Ron said he would send an owl to Finnegan after dinner. He informed her there was coffee and dessert, but Hermione patted her belly and begged off until later.

Ron sat back in his chair. "So what do you want to do?"

She smiled at him. "After a meal like that, I just want to lay down."

"Do you now?" Ron grinned.

He followed her to their bedroom, his hands on her hips as they climbed the stairs. "You wear such conservative robes to work," Ron commented.

Hermione was, in fact, in traditional charcoal gray wizarding robes that had a high collar and hung to the floor. "Well, they frown on the casual tart look at the Ministry, Ron."

"Yes, I imagine they do," Ron said as they reached the top of the stairs. "More's the pity. Although, I do like these robes."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

Ron took her hand and led her into the bedroom. "You know what I like best about them?"

"I can't imagine," Hermione smiled.

Ron tapped her shoulder with his wand and said, "Deliquesco." Her robes disappeared leaving her standing in her underwear. "It's what you're always wearing under them."

She rolled her eyes. "It's underwear, Ron."

He ran his hand down her sides over the black silk camisole she was wearing. "Yes, I'm sure all the witches wear these." His hands slid over her hips and he slipped a finger under her garter belt. "And these."

"I don't like pantyhose," Hermione protested. "They make me feel like a sausage."

Ron cupped her sex, "And these lacy little knickers?"

"They're very comfortable, they don't bunch up."

Ron nodded, "They don't bunch up because there's hardly anything to them."

He was backing her slowly against the wall as he said this and Hermione didn't protest. She knew where this was going and it was just fine with her. When he slid his hands back up her sides and pushed her arms over her head she leaned back against the wall and relaxed. He held her wrists over her head with one hand as he slid the other inside her knickers.

She spread her legs a little wider to accommodate his fingers.

"Someone's a randy girl," Ron murmured as he kissed her neck.

Hermione let her head loll back against the wall. She liked it like this, persistent and hungry. Ron could go all night in this mood and it made her knees weak to think about it. He kept at her with his fingers, his teeth and tongue dancing across her neck until she was bucking and shuddering against him. When he let go of her wrists she found her legs wouldn't hold her, but he scooped her up then and placed her gently on the bed.

"I feel really bad about our row," Ron said quietly as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

Hermione watched him with languid eyes. "Me too," she said.

"I really want to make it up to you," he said, letting his shirt fall to the ground and unbuttoning his pants.

"Me too," Hermione agreed.

As he stepped out of his pants and toed off his shoes, his fingers went to her garter belt, unhooking it from her stockings. He rolled them slowly down her legs and then moved up to her knickers. She shifted her hips to make it easier for him to get them off. He left the camisole where it was and lay on his back next to her. "I think it's time you did a little work, don't you?"

Hermione smiled broadly. "What if I'm too lazy?"

Ron rolled on top of her suddenly. She lifted her knees to cradle him and without another word he pushed into her. She took in a sharp breath between clenched teeth. It was always like this with him. No matter how many times they were together, there was always a twinge of pain with his entrance if he was on top. "I am willing to accommodate laziness," he said. "But you might want to rethink this."

"Well," Hermione gasped. "You are a very large man."

Ron looked down at her and nodded his agreement. "Can't be helped," he smiled and then the oddest expression crossed his face. "Was it easier with Viktor?"

Hermione was shocked. He had never said Viktor's name in bed before, never had he allowed her past to intrude into such an intimate moment. She could feel the blood draining from her face and she wanted nothing more than to be out from under him, but he literally had her pinned to the mattress.

"I'm sorry," Ron said, as if it suddenly occurred to him what he'd just done. "I just always kind of wondered that. He's kind of a small guy when you think about it."

Hermione tried to get her emotions in check. He really did seem sorry, and she could see how something like that might weigh on Ron's mind. She didn't have much time to consider it though as her position shifted suddenly and the world rolled around. She found herself on her knees straddling Ron and looking down at him. She pressed her palm against his chest to secure her balance. She blinked, bit her bottom lip and said, "Easier doesn't mean better. After all" she said, tracing a thumb around his nipple, "when you learn to ride on a stallion, getting your own pony loses some of its appeal."

Ron grinned up at her, "What is it with you and ponies?"

She laughed and ground her hips against him. "You are a very bad man."

He laughed as he thrust up into her. "Yes, yes I am."

They were sitting in the kitchen some time later eating chocolate bombe with their fingers and drinking coffee.

"What time is our Portkey in the morning?"

"I got permission to make it myself, so we've got some flexibility. I would like to get there early though. I don't know Sofia that well, so we're going to have to go to Viktor's parent's house and then follow everyone to the funeral from there."

Ron was licking chocolate off his fingers. "That won't bother them?"

"What?" Hermione asked as she took a sip of coffee.

"Us showing up? They aren't cross about the breakup?"

Hermione hadn't considered that. She didn't know Viktor's parents well. He had never seemed particularly close to them. "Viktor suggested it, so I assume it will be fine."

Ron nodded. "All right then."

Hermione picked up the plate the bombe was on and her coffee cup and set them in the sink. She took out her wand but Ron stopped her.

"Please don't clean the dishes," he said. "The last time you did that Winky cried to me for an hour about how you think she's rubbish. It took forever to sort her out."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "I don't think she's rubbish, she's an excellent house elf. It just seems rude to leave the dishes for her."

"Hermione, please. She doesn't think that way. Leave the bloody dishes, please, for me."

She sighed. "I think both of you are mental." But she left the dishes as they were and the ones from dinner as well.

Ron put his hands on her shoulders and began to steer her out of the kitchen. "Yes, luv," Ron said, "and you're a paragon of normalcy."