One Last Time
VI. Picking Up The Pieces

Bollocks.

His eyes squeezed shut.

Breathing was supposed to be easy, he mused, but as she tangled her fingers in his hair, he realized breathing didn't come as naturally as it should. No, no, not when the softness of her chest crowded against him. Air just became to thick to breathe, to swallow... and he was drowning in this. He was suffocating.

And bloody hell, he wanted her.

He wanted her everywhere, to be everywhere... over her, under her, surrounding her, and inside her. He just wanted to delve his own fingers into her wild locks, make a fist and yank her forward as if he was frightened that this may be a dream. He wanted to take hold of her and this dream, because this just had to be a dream.

He bit his lip and his breath hitched.

Those fingers of hers slid from his hair and trailed down over the muscle of his bicep. As she tried to breathe, he couldn't allow it. No, he wouldn't allow her to even think, much less breathe. He wanted her to give into the desire. He wanted her to be wild with it. He loved her mind, her soul, and her body. He wanted it all. He wanted everything with no barriers parting them with secrets and insecurities.

But he wanted her permission. A stolen kiss was much, much different than stealing one's entire soul and body.

When it came, he took what she offered. The way she inched back a bit so her fingers could curl into his shirt, he knew she wanted it just as bad as he did. The quickness that she rid him of his shirt told him just that. The way her hands explored the naked expanse of his bared torso. But when her fingers toyed with the button of his pants, he grabbed her hands. He pressed kisses to her knuckles before he captured her mouth with his.

"Off," he whispered in her ear, tugging at her own shirt.

Soon the panic was back in them and he wouldn't allow that to continue.

"I want to see you. All of you."

Crimson heated her cheeks and he could tell she was about to protest.

"It's only fair," he teased, coaxing her with a gentle kiss on her neck.

The sharp intake of breath before it puffed out against his skin. Both of them shivered at the lightness of skin and air. Lips moved, sliding over prickled skin. He couldn't stop himself from tasting the saltiness of iy. Merlin, he wanted to eat her whole. He wanted her against – No! Slow down. Just slow down. He sighed, backing away a moment. He let his hands meander down the length of her body until the light shivering resonated with the fast beats of her heart.

It was her turn to squeeze her eyes shut.

"B-Bloody hell," she stammered.

Chuckling to himself, he slid an arm around her hips. "I thought you were perfectly capable of taking off your shirt, but if you need help, I'll be happy to help you."

An impish smile crossed that lush mouth of hers as her warm chocolate eyes met his. Once again, his breath caught for the thousandth time that night. He had already lost count already with how many times this woman could make him lose his mind.

"Oh, I don't know," she whispered. "I may need some instruction on how to take off my shirt... for educational value, of course."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "Educational value, hm?"

She hesitated for a moment. There was a moment of confusion slicing through the haze of sexual tension. Bloody hell, don't let that be cold water to this heat. He chewed his bottom lip, standing still shirtless and his pants unbuttoned. He groaned. He should have just ripped the bloody shirt off of her.

When she lifted her eyes to study his face and his eyes, he forced himself not to show his disappointment. There she was before him. The clearness in her eyes – no longer dazed or dizzy from the passion or heat. There was that studious, curious, and fiercely clever best friend just staring right into him, burning into his eyes. Like a moth to flame, he would always be here, getting doused with his metaphorical cold shower, because he knew that look.

She was itching for a long talk.

He lost the battle of not showing his disappointment. He sighed then, looking around for his thrown shirt.

"What're you doing?"

The question came as he was stooping down to scoop up his shirt. His eyes drifted to Hermione then.

"I'm getting dressed."

"But why?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"So we can talk. I know that look."

She reached, grabbing the shirt in his hands. "I don't want to talk, Ron."

A small smile teased the corners of her mouth. She tossed the shirt unto the floor. Biting her bottom lip as her fingers dragged the material of her shirt over her body. Ron tried to swallow. He really did, but the thick lump in his throat refused to be swallowed down. His tongue felt swollen and thick. His throat parched. His eyes took in the lightness of her skin.

"Ron," she whispered, letting her fingers glide down his arm. "Show me. Instruct me."

"Instruct you?"

"To let go." She bit her lip. "To lose control. To not think."

His eyes flicked to her. "Are you sure?"

He waited a moment.

Silence continued.

Chocolate eyes melted into baby blues.

"I trust you."

There it was.

Permission.

Exactly what he had been looking for.

If it wasn't the words that convinced him, the way she threw her body against him was. The way she melted into him, tangling her tongue against his. The way her fingers and hands traveled across his skin. Soon, his fingers found and touched the smoothness of her skin. She was in his bloody veins, pumping through them. An addiction that he couldn't quench and couldn't get rid of no matter if he was best for him or not.

This deep ache within him started to build, burning within him, through him, and surrounding him. Clothes strewn chaotically across the floor. Skin melded against the other. The heat of her against him, warming him, and warning him that this was all too real. This was not a dream. This was definitely not a dream as he parted her thighs and slid into the fire.

Not a dream as he swallowed her moans into kisses.

Not a dream as she shivered, beginning to unravel and come apart.

Not a dream as her eyes burned into his when she arched up against him. Muscles taught. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her fingernails bite into the flesh of his shoulder blades. Sweat dripped off their skin. He eased her back against the bed, letting her come down from her feverish high before he took her once again to paradise. Because she was better than a dream. They were better than any fantasy and he was going to imprint that in her bloody brain.

He didn't miss the slight panic washing over her face. He didn't miss a different type of tension in her body as her eyes fluttered open again to meet his. He leaned down, kissing her mouth before a small smile came to his lips.

"There are many ways to paradise," he whispered in her ear. "I'm going to teach you all the roads to get there thoroughly. What kind of teacher would I be if I let you charm me that easily?" He relished her shiver as he pressed his mouth against her neck. "I know you're a perfect student. Attentive and studious. You'll want to perfect everything to pass the ultimate test, because you're not one to go halfway in on your studies, are you?"

"No, no, of course not. You know I love throwing myself into my studies."

He smirked at her words.

"Mm, good. Exactly what I wanted to hear," he purred, licking a path down her neck. "Because we're not done. Not even close. Are you ready for your next lesson?"

Her eyes lit up. "Always."

The delicious aroma wafting from the kitchen awoke her. Hermione's eyes drifted open, becoming aware of the aches and pains in her body. She groaned as she stretched. No matter her movement, she was met with the same soreness. A smile teased the corners of her mouth, knowing why she felt this way. The extracurricular activities of last night replayed in her mind and she couldn't help that feeling of anticipation mounting. The pressure between her thighs only reminded her of that stirring desire but of also that remaining soreness.

The slight pain was worth every single moment, she mused, before forcing herself to shift out of bed. She snatched her robe and quickly wrapped herself in it. She tied off the sash as she made her way into her kitchen.

There he was, hovering over the stove in the pair of pajamas pants she had stolen from him months ago. He had learned last night that she had stolen a whole mound of his clothes when they had broken up. Last night had been about them – reconnecting and discovering. They had made love and talked. It was well past sunrise when the exhaustion finally won out. From how the sun was dipping down in the sky, she guessed it was late afternoon, as she spotted the sun out of her kitchen window.

Her eyes traveled down his bare torso. His back toned and rippled with muscle. His training from being an Aurora and playing Quidditch had given him a body that most women drooled over. She wasn't above drooling as she watched his muscles contract as he moved. She wasn't above feeling of those butterflies that flit around her stomach. It had never been about finding Ron attractive, because they had grown up together and she had witnessed his changes over the years. However, she had been convinced that he hadn't seen the changes in her.

It was okay. It was okay to be sexually attracted to him. It was okay to want him, to get off thinking about him... and apparently on him. The way he smiled at her when her body betrayed her to him only caused the need to burn more within her. The flames never died. He only stoked the logs and caused the embers to ignite. He taught her it was okay to want him as much as she did and get off on it. He caused her to burn.

She just hoped that she caused him to burn. Worrying her bottom lip, she pondered over the anxieties building in her mind. Did he get off more with Mia? Did she please him more? Now that he had been with her fully, she wondered if she lived up to what he desired. Would he end up thinking he made a mistake? Was he thinking of her at all last night?

"What are you thinking about?"

Ron's voice broke through her thoughts. She hadn't known how long she had been standing there, watching him as her thoughts consumed her. She felt her cheeks burning and she knew she was blushing.

"Nothing," she whispered, slipping into a seat at the kitchen table.

She couldn't quite meet his eyes. She cursed her body for betraying her as her hand shook as she poured herself a cup of tea. She really couldn't meet his eyes now as she continued to prep her tea. If he planned to call her out on it, he must have reconsidered it. He turned back to making the food. When he had set down the eggs and pancakes, she realized how much she had missed him cooking. She missed waking up to the smell and the vision of him cooking.

As she took a piece of toast from the pile of buttered toast on the plate near the plate of pancakes, she realized how much he took after Molly with cooking. Molly. She cringed, remembering how much Molly liked Mia. His entire family loved her, because she breathed life back into him. She could only imagine how much they would react when they caught wind of this. How mad would they be if her slip up caused Ron's happiness?

"Hermione," Ron called out to her, causing her to realize that she had once again slipped into her thoughts.

Her heart clenched as her eyes met his.

Merlin, she still wanted him.

Again.

She pressed her legs together until the inside of her thighs squeezed against the other. He had made her into a wanton fool. Licking her lips, she swallowed thickly, berating herself. She was literally at war with herself. Emotionally and mentally, she knew she was lying to herself that she didn't want what her body wanted.

Tears filled her eyes. Confusion was building within her. Would he have been happier if he was with Mia right now? Sitting and eating at the kitchen table after making love to her all night, would he have been happier with her? Did she make him burn more? Was she a better fit?

Before she could stop herself, she voiced the torment eating at her. "Would you rather be with her right now?"

Frozen, he paused, looking down at his plate of food. When she was only met with silence, her heart and stomach dropped. She sucked in a breath. The pain spliced through her, shattering and bursting through her like shards of broken glass.

"Of course you would," she whispered, defeated. "I'm-I'm sorry. I'm sure if you-if you go to her that she'll forgive you and-"

Blue eyes locked unto hers. "How can you even think that?"

She went to stand when he reached across the table to grab her hand, preventing her from leaving the table.

"How can you think that after last night that there's anyone but you?" he questioned, shaking his head.

When she opened her mouth to speak, she couldn't find her voice. He tugged her around the table by their joined hands until she found herself falling into his lap and being folded into his arms. His strong arms slid around her waist, cradling her body against his. She let her body sway as he rocked her slightly back and forth. Shutting her eyes as he pressed a kiss against her exposed shoulder, her emotions won out, bubbling over as tears slid down her cheeks.

In a world that praised the strong, she had believed that if she had just shut out her pains and cares that they would remain buried. She had fought so hard to be the best, because deep inside, she believed that she wasn't good enough. Although, she had proved time and time again that blood had nothing to do with one's greatness or brilliance or aptitude. Bloody hell, she had fought with both Harry and Ron to take down the blood purist movement along with their deadly figurehead, but she wasn't immune to the insults. She hadn't been immune to the sting of their acidic opinions.

"Hermione." Her name was whispered against her shoulder. She tensed, knowing the pressure of her words would cause her to barriers to dissolve. Just as they had last night in his arms, he had broken through to her. "Hermione, you trusted me last night to help you lose control to the feeling, right? To not think. To feel."

She nodded. "Mm'hm."

She felt his lips skim over the back of neck. "I'm not perfect. I'm going to be just as bloody thick and dense as the day before. I'm not going to miraculously know what you're feeling-"

Hermione frowned at his words. Here she was belittling herself when Ron was voicing his own weaknesses. She shifted, looking over her shoulder at him. "Ron-"

"Listen," he pleaded. "Please, just listen. One of the reasons why it didn't work out in the first place is that we didn't listen to each other. We didn't actually listen and talk to each other." His eyes gazed deeply into her eyes. "I want that. I want us to be more open with each other, because this side of you is more scary than seeing you when you're bloody bat crazy mad. I'm not used to seeing this vulnerable and insecure side. All I've ever seen is this confident and wise witch, who never once second guessed herself."

Her heart clenched at that. Nervously, she licked her lips, tearing her eyes away from his as she looked forward. She took a deep breath. Trust. In. Him. She squeezed her eyes shut to calm her nerves, attempting to find the words to communicate. That was her problem, she realized, that she used words to communicate... to educate. She didn't use them to show how she felt.

"I've always felt I lacked." Her voice cracked as she forced out the words from her heart. "All I ever had was my words... my brain. My convictions. My passions. When I was younger before Hogwarts, I-I wasn't accepted... so when I came to Hogwarts, I thought it would be different. I thought I would be readily accepted, because we were all the same." She shuddered, feeling Ron's fingers tracing patterns down her arm. "But little did I know about bloody purity. Little did I know that others wouldn't accept me as readily as I hoped." She took a deep breath then. "Do you know how much it meant to me when you and Harry finally let me into your lives? I didn't-I didn't just have my studies anymore. I had friends who wanted me around. But that feeling of being unwanted and alone, it always stayed and I was scared that one day both of you would see me as they all saw me. My use would dry up and you'd leave."

Ron's body tensed at that. "Hermione-"

"I can't change who I am," she told him. "This is who I am. I'm still that stuffy, know-it-all best friend, who raises their hand the moment a professor asks a question. I like structure and rules... provided that it doesn't go against my moral code. I'm never going to be one of those girls that will get all pretty for some social event. I will never be flashy. I will probably never make you laugh as hard and as much as Mia did. I'm a dictionary. I'm a history book. I'm informative and I'd do anything I could possibly do if it's the right thing to do, whether it be standing by myself for a cause or standing side by side by the people I love in a war. I'd do anything I could to make certain the people that I love will be happy and safe-"

"And that's why I love you," he whispered in her ear. She inhaled sharply. "That's why I stick around. That's why I want to be around you even if we don't meet eye to eye on things." He paused, chuckling for a moment. "Okay, even if we don't bloody meet eye to eye on most things. It's the fact that you are different from me that makes me stay, rooted right here. Bloody hell, I want to be here, because you know bloody way more interesting things than I do. It took me a long time to understand what beautiful actually means, but you helped me see that. You challenge me every day to see things differently. I don't know many people that do that for me."

Once again, Hermione looked over her shoulder, searching his eyes to see the sincerity in them. She could feel the trickle of her tears, brushing over her skin. She knew she looked a mess, but she had to look into those eyes. She couldn't trust just words. What she saw was the blazing truth in them. He wasn't even seeing her anymore. It was as if he was off in his own dreamworld, his own mind... his own heart. A smile broke through the gloom as she turned more to cup the side of his face. Shocking both herself and him, she followed her heart and kissed him.

When his eyes focused on hers, she gave him another chaste kiss before breathing out another truth. "I love you, Ron," she declared confidently. A huge smile drifted unto his face. "I can't promise it'll be easier now."

"Only a fool would think this will get easier," he teased, kissing her cheek. He embraced her, holding her tightly in his arms.

"But we can try. We can try again. Try to be better, try to understand, try to feel, try to open up more, and try let go more."

"All that matters is that we are going to try. That's all I ask is if we try." There was this mischievous twinkle in his eyes and she knew that whatever he was going to say was going to make her roll her eyes. Inwardly, she knew she'd laugh. She'd probably want to laugh aloud, but the persona she always wore demanded her to be prim and proper. So when his teasing, ill-timed remarks came, she wasn't surprised. "I'm glad we are on the same page now, Hermione. Really I am.. but can we be on the same page eating?"

Instead of tossing out a critical statement, she just smirked as she reached down to grab a pancake. She relished the look if shock as she plastered the pancake over his face. She watched as it fall from his still shocked face and fall into his lap. She leaned over, noticing there was a nice coating of syrup on his face. She kissed his cheek then licked it, tasting the sweetness of it.

"Yum," she said brightly. "Yes, you're right. Definitely on the same page."

A devious look crossed his face. "Oh, darling, you're bloody going to get it."

Before she could react, Ron grabbed the bowl of scrambled eggs and proceeded to empty it over her head. Instinctively, she reached for a pitcher of orange juice in the center of the table as he attempted to reach around her. Their breakfast was soon covering them and they found themselves sprawled out in the middle of the forth after their impromptu food fight. Hermione chuckled before bursting out laughing as her eyes surveyed the damage they created. She barely heard Ron laughing just as hard in the background, but from the corner of her eye, she watched him shift where he lay on her kitchen floor. That's when she noticed him laughing like he had when he was with Mia. Her heart thumped in her chest as she watched as he rolled to his side to look at her.

"I look absolutely horrible, don't I?"

He grinned. "You're beautiful."

Her eyes widened slightly at that. She was about to refute it, but she just smiled. She may not look beautiful, but she realized that she felt beautiful. The way he was looking her. This fantastic rush of emotional euphoria made this moment beautiful. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to roll over, pounce on him, and just kiss him. That's when she realized that's what Ron had taught her to go with what she was feeling. It couldn't hurt to follow her heart. It did, in fact, lead her to Ron.

She gave in, sealing their promise of trying with a kiss.

Fin. :)