Title: The Fine Line part 4 of 5
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters:Hermione/Ron
Prompt: 38 - Touch
Word Count: 37340
Rating:T
Summary:Ron/Hermione missing moment. Another night together at Grimmauld place, Hermione asks to sleep with Ron to ward off more nightmares and Ron is happy to oblige.
Author's Notes:Notes: This was going to be a one-shot but it was so long I couldn't even handle the idea of proof reading all 10,000+ words so I opted to split it up each time there is a pov switch. I'll post them as I finish proofing them. I think this is they shortest one, but you have to start somewhere yo!
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The Fine Line
part 4 of 5
Ron's insides were a tangled mix of disappointment and soaring elation. For a few long glorious moments he was sure Hermione was going to kiss him. Neither had broken eye contact as she leaned into him and it had been one of the most revealing moments he'd ever had. As if his deepest feelings he'd kept secreted away from her were written across his face. Ready for her to read as easily as one of her books.
It had been the closest they'd ever had to a real kiss though, he admitted to himself. It was at least a mutual side of the mouth thing. He found it impossible to be totally disappointed though. She had pulled herself into a close hug and her face was now nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Her whispered words into his ear, the warmth of her breath dancing upon his skin had been intoxicating. 'Impressive' him, Hermione was calling him impressive. It boggled his mind and his chest swelled at the very idea of it.
He shifted her weight onto him slightly and wiggled the arm beneath his own body under her as well, wrapping it around her so that she was fully in his arms. He liked the pressure of her body against his, after all the exchanged glances and small touches it was like the weight of her small figure against him was something real, something tangible he could hold on that said 'yes it's not in your head!' He felt her give what could only be a sigh of contentment and curled her hand around his bicep.
"I feel safe with you, like this." Her quiet whisper into his neck caused a flood of goose bumps to ripple across his skin. He felt the pressure increase in his already straining nether region and he was glad she wasn't directly pressing against it, mostly glad at least. She hadn't protested the night before when it had been pressed against her thigh, a thought that had distracted him for several hours as he sat under the cloak that afternoon, but it seemed as though she was constantly catching him like that these days and he didn't much fancy the idea of being seen as the randy git he most certainly was.
"I'm glad." he whispered back as he used his now free hand to adjust the wild hair in front of his face. He placed his lips on her neck and breathed in her delicious scent, parchment and cinnamon. He wasn't sure if that's actually what parchment smelled like but he always associated her scent with paper and books. He adored having his senses engulfed by her, his Hermione. To his extreme disappointment she moved away from him, that feeling ended quickly when he realized she was merely reaching for his wand sitting on the nightstand. Her full round chest hovering in front of his face.
"Sorry, I can fix that." Ron didn't know what was wrong to fix but he couldn't find a single part of him willing to protest as she lunged her hand toward the wand, causing her breasts to jiggle, actually hitting his cheeks with the soft skin and his only excuse for what he did next was the lack of blood to his brain. Before he had a chance to think or realize how crazy it would be to act upon this impulse he buried his face in her bosom, his chin pulling against the neck of her vest and he rested his cheek against her warm supple skin. Hermione let out a small gasp that Ron could only interpret as shock and was surprised to see a shy smile on her face when she settle back to her old position with the wand.
"I'll just uhm- Accio hair tie." And a small thin elastic zoomed across the room toward her. Her eyes met Ron's for a moment and he watched her, mesmerized as she chewed her bottom lip, the same bottom lip he'd dreamed about pulling in between his teeth and doing a bit of nibbling of his own. He watched her in the pale moon light as her cheeks tinted a brighter pink before she leaned back across him once again to replace the wand on the nightstand. Her body once again taunting him with the closeness of her tantalizing curves. He had to use every drop of self control not to pull her skin into his mouth. A faint sheen of sweat on her tanned skin from the warm night. Ron licked his lips, wondering if the flesh hovering just above tasted as wonderful in real life as did in the millions of fantasies he'd indulged in.
He didn't know if it was just his rapid heart rate or perhaps the pleasure of the moment begging to be stretched further to his sharpened senses but he could have sworn Hermione hovered above him much longer this time around. Taunting him with the rise and fall of her deep breaths that seemed to implore him to draw the warm skin into his mouth and knead the flesh gently with his tongue.
She met his gaze as she slowly dragged her body downward, staying much closer to him as she returned to her relaxed position then she had before. He felt the skin of her stomach against him as her shirt bunched up beneath her bosom. Ron couldn't resist the siren call the softness of her skin created for him. He ran his fingertips gingerly along the small of her back then slowly grazed his knuckles across the side of her belly before resting his open palm along the ridge of her lowest rib. A tentative smile playing on her lips, both lost in the moment of being together.
"Yeah, I was just getting this to pull up my hair," she muttered breathlessly her eyes studying him. "So you won't have it in your face all night." Ron felt a thrill go through him. 'all night' she would be this close to him all night long. She rested her elbow on the bed and shifted her weight onto it as she nimbly worked her fingers through the wild mane bursting out in all directions into a mostly smooth pony tail in the back. Ron's heart sank, he loved her exuberant hair, he wanted to run his hands through it and have it tickle his skin as he held her.
She leaned her body against him again, snuggling into his neck just as before. He moved his hand to her newly managed hair and tugged at the elastic. She lifted herself up and looked at him as his finger looped around the thin cord and pulled slowly. He watched her lick her lips again causing his member to twitch in anticipation.
"I like it down." He whispered as he finished releasing her hair once again to it's former state of disarray. He dragged his fingertips along her back as he moved and she closed her eyes as a shiver ran through her.
"Alright," she answered softly, eyes still closed. Her silence made him feel brave somehow. Usually he was more comfortable with their arguing and flirtatious banter, a constant dance to test the water of their sexual tension. Tonight felt different some how, speaking of wanting to fall in love, of being in love, dreaming of a future and a family. It all just seemed so possible with her wrapped in his arms.
He placed the hand not cradling the delicate sloping curve of her waist at the base of her scalp and began to fluff back out the curling mass of hair. He really did love her hair. Ron always thought it was perfect on her. As wild and as unmanageable as she herself was. His chest doubled in size as she rested her head on his shoulder and released a long sigh.
'Mental note to self, play with hair!' and so he did . For the next few minutes he just reveled in the soft feel of her tendrils curling between his fingers. His grin grew wide as every time he grazed his fingers along the crest of her ear she would hum softly into his chest.
Her warm fingers meandered along the skin of his chest, moving in slow circles causing his breath to catch. He would never get over the feel of her touching him. The hundreds of times he'd imagined it didn't come any where near resembling the ecstasy he felt at actually having her curled along side his body.
Her movements began to concentrate on a small area along his rib and she quietly asked.
"How did you get this?"
"What?" He muttered, her questioned forcing his mind outside the fantasy he was indulging in.
"This scar here," she tapped the place she'd been touching. "how did you get it?" Ron thought for a moment.
"Department of Mysteries I think, the whole nights a bit of a blur after a certain point but that whole side of my chest was bandaged so prolly then I suppose." What she did next lit his body on fire. She rubbed it for a moment with her thumb before leaning over and kissing his blemished skin with her plump moist lips. He let out an involuntary groan of pleasure before his brain could stop him. The place where she had placed her lips felt as though it had been burned by desire.
She moved her hand to his arm, to the circling scars also left that night. She lifted herself off of him and kissed that scar as well. Several times she let her lips press delicately on his skin peppering his arm with searing points at the contact. Ron could hardly breath any longer, each attempt to take new air into his lungs required intense concentration.
He wanted her, he had wanted her for as long as and even before he understood what that meant. Then like all his wild imaginings come true there they were, lying in his bed together, his arms wrapped around her, hands resting on her warm skin as she placed long languid kisses along his body. He was in pain from the pleasure of it, his desire straining in the cotton casing of his pajamas. He both couldn't stand it and wouldn't do anything to stop it at the same time. He wouldn't give up any portion of this stolen moment with her for anything in the world. Nothing in his life had felt better than just lying there with her.
His body convulsed with a small jolt as her hand moved to his hip bone. 'Merlin's saggy left nugget she can't be there right now!' Her forearm hovered just a hair above his groin, causing his face to flush with what he knew was a deep shade of red. She ran her thumb along what he knew to be the top of a crescent shaped formation of scars.
"Hermione," he muttered breathlessly. Not having any sentence formed in his head, just calling out her name because he needed to. She either understood or ignored him because she didn't answer him. Instead she pulled the upper edge of his bottoms down several inches, exposing the rest of the scar. She fingered the arc lovingly with her soft caress.
"From Sirius?" She asked, knowing the answer for she had been there when he'd been dragged into the passage beneath the whomping willow.
"Yeah," was the most he could muster saying under the intoxicating effects of the contact her hand on his hip were having. She presses her body against him, her forearm deliberately or not was now pressing against his tightened organ, and he placed a feather soft kiss to the arc of teethmarks along his hip. He couldn't have told you his own name at this point, his brain was so clouded by lasciviousness.
"Hermione." his voice was husky and dripping with lust as he moaned her name. How did this happen? Moments ago wasn't he eliciting moans as he caressed her hair? Now instead of being on his side with her weight leaned on her, his back was pressed firmly on the bed beneath him and she was moving above him while he melted into a puddle of pleasure under her inspection.
"Yes Ron," her voice low and expectant. What was he going to say to her? He had called out her name in a moment of euphoria. She took up her former position of her chest pressed against his and she looked at him expectantly. He didn't know what to do or say, his brain was enveloped in a thick haze preventing rational thoughts from forming.
"Thank you," he mumbled, unable to think of anything else to say. He watched her cheeks flush with color and he his chest grew to bursting at it. He loved her, every bit of him knew that. The idea of anything he said or did causing her perfect cheeks to color sent his heart beating furiously.
"You're welcome," she whispered as she fingered the small scar on his chin. It wasn't an interesting scar like the others she'd touched. It was a small barely visible white line just below his lip. "And this one?" she asked as her thumb moved back and forth across it. "You've always had this one, for as long as I can remember. How did you get it?" Her eyes were fixed on the small scar as she touched him. How he wished it had a more thrilling tale than the truth.
"I was flying Charlie's broom, I was seven I suppose. Wasn't more than a few feet off the ground and I lost control. Hit my chin on a rock when I fell." Merlin how he wished it was a sexy story about facing a death eater or rescuing someone. Instead it was just 'I fell on my face'.
"I like it," she whispered before doing what Ron hadn't dared dream she'd do. She pressed her lips against it. Her lips were gloriously soft on, well not his lips exactly, more like his lip. Just the lower one. His mouth had been parted slightly and she encased only his bottom lip with her own. 'Was this a kiss, like a real kiss or was this just a scar kiss?' he felt small pull of pressure on his lip, like a gentle sucking almost. He felt a soft moist flick of something, was that her tongue? But before he had a chance to process what was happening she was done.
She wouldn't look him in the eyes afterwards, instead she seemed intent on looking anywhere but his eyes. His mind seemed suddenly sharp after what he could only term as the maybe kiss. The last thing in the world he wanted was for her to be embarrassed about that. He'd loved it, and would willingly fall off a hundred broomsticks if only to relive that single second again. He felt himself panic as she started shifted her weight off of him. 'No, no no no no! This isn't ending yet, I need you, this hasn't been enough!' His mind thought as a flood of panic washed over him.
The thought of loosing this precious stolen moment with her made him bold. Without thinking his actions through entirely he pressed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her down onto to bed, effectively switching their positions so she was now on her back and he was on his side leaning into her. She let out a small yelp of surprise and gripped her hand around the fabric of his waistband for support.
Neither of them said anything and Ron sheepishly avoided her eyes as his actions replayed in his mind. Did he really just forcibly push her onto his bed beneath him? He felt foolish and was about to mutter an apology when he noticed her wide smile. He couldn't contain his joy at the thought of her enjoying being thrown down onto his bed, he felt a childish giddy ripple through him and unable to help himself, buried his face in her neck. He could feel the grin on his face but was powerless against his euphoria. The idea of her wanting to be there with him, of fancying this even half so much as he was, exhilarated him in a way he didn't even know was possible.
He kissed the soft skin of the hallow of her neck without thinking about it, his body just needing to do something with all of his sudden pent up urgency. If he thought this kiss would lessen the need he felt for he he was sorely mistaken. She responded with a vigor he hadn't anticipated, gripping his bottoms tightly and pulling him down flush against her. Before he even had a chance to blush at the close contact his straining sex had with her body she wrapped her leg around his, hooking it around his knee. If he thought he couldn't think before, it was nothing to the stupefying haze engulfing him now. Her leg curled around his body, was the single most erotic thing he'd ever experienced in his 17 years of life. Better than any magazine he had stashed under his bed, better than anything he'd done in the 5 mo with Lavender Brown, that small act from his brilliant best friend just did him in.
He let out a load moan of pleasure just before pressing his lips to her neck again. Finally doing what he'd been fighting against all night, and he pulled at her skin, drawing it between his lips softly. He flecked his tongue out, tasting her. She didn't taste particularly like anything he could identify, he just knew he wanted to taste her again, and again, and again for the rest of his life. She let out a low moan as he moved slowly up her neck. He felt her fingers entangling in the shaggy hair at the base of his neck and it sent a shiver down him. Her other hand moved along the fabric on his hip, hooking her thumb inside the band of his bottoms. A string of words he would never let his mother hear him say raced through his mind as she moved her hands. Every time he thought things couldn't become anymore amazing they just did.
He hit the hallow behind her ear and as he slowly nibbled at her skin he heard for the first time in his life Hermione mutter a string of words he would also never let his mother hear. There had been a discussion once in his 5th year about whether or not swearing was a turn on. He'd been firm in his opinion that it wasn't because he just couldn't fathom his Hermione doing such a thing and therefore couldn't see it being a turn on. He had been an idiot he quickly concluded. Something about his proper, well behaved best friend being so lost just by his touch that she rattled off a string of profanity was most definitely a turn on.
The hand he'd kept relatively still on her rib, unsure of exactly what to do with it, moved downward. Unable to keep his hands from roaming along the heat of her skin any longer, he felt it safest to mimic her own actions towards him. He rested a hand on the curve of her hip and ran his own thumb along the inside fabric of her lowers. Instead of meeting the cotton fabric he'd encountered the previous night his thumb encountered something much different.
The texture was all wrong, not wrong actually just unexpected. It was smooth and silky instead of soft worn, and it seemed to have already come to an end. He looped the small string of fabric with his thumb and pulled on it slightly, confused by what he was holding. He stopped moving, his body froze as the realization of what it was washed over him.
No way, this was proof it was all only a fantastic dream. His Hermione worn soft cotton knickers, he'd once seen a pair of lace onces and he'd been peeking when he shouldn't have been. That small image alone had driven him crazy but at least it was within the realm of reality. This though, this wasn't even something he'd envisioned on her in even his raciest of dreams.
This was something he knew to be exclusive to muggle woman. He and Neville hadn't believe that it was something girls actually wore until Dean had produced an unmoving muggle magazine as proof. More recently he'd seen a pair on the curvaceous backside on a muggle poster affixed on Sirius's wall as they search his bedroom. It was a pair of knickers that should hardly be called a pair of knickers at all. Just a bit of string and small bits of fabric. Yet somehow just those particular bits and string were intoxicating. He found himself mesmerized by it each time he encountered it. Now, to his absolute amazement, was tangible evidence of the reality of it's existence on none other then his Hermione.
"Bloody hell," he moaned into the skin of her neck before he wrapped his fingers around the string, holding on to it like it was his only hold on reality. To her credit, Hermione's breath hitched audibly as he did so and she moved her own hand slowly toward the curve of his backside.
He had surely died. That was the only explanation that seemed plausible to him. He had died in the raid at Bill and Fleur's wedding, had been in limbo in the weeks since and had only now just arrived in heaven. Nothing in all of his life had been this wonderful. Lavender had repeated groped his arse in their time together and while he'd enjoyed it, there was no comparison to Hermione's flat palm curving at the edge of his buttocks and hip. He hadn't even moved her hand all the way to cup it completely and it was better then Lavender's insistent man handling.
Yes, he had most definitely died and gone to the most wonderful heaven imaginable.
