Prompt: Ron and Hermione back at work after their honymoon, but still feeling amorous. (Can be read as a sequel to the previous chapter)


Several Aurors raised their heads in amused disgust at the sound of a jauntily whistled tune. They had learned quickly that catcalls and snide comments only made things worse, so they let him alone, hoping his overly cheerful mood would dim with time. And it would; no one could keep up that level of happiness forever. But until it did, Ron was determined to enjoy it, even if those around him didn't.

They had been back from their honeymoon for nearly a week, and were finally getting back into the swing of things at work. The trip had been amazing, and both had been reluctant to return home. Ron found himself, in moments of free time (and some moments that should have been devoted to work), daydreaming about the almost three weeks they had shared. They had hit all of the little tourist traps in the area, and shagged. They had taken in the landmarks and scenic sights, and shagged. They had strolled along the beach at sunset, watched the sunrise from their hotel balcony, and shagged. They had tried new foods in out of the way little restaurants, and shagged. There had been the requisite bickering about pointless things, and make up had reminisced about the more lighthearted moments about their younger years, and had talked seriously about the darker times of the war and it's aftermath. And then for a change of pace, they had shagged.

It had been Hermione's idea to take so much time off by themselves to reconnect after the pressures of work and family had put an unintended strain on them, and it had been brilliant. It was soppy, but in a way, he had fallen in love with her all over again, and he felt strangely closer to her than he had before. They both knew that they would settle back into routine when they got home, but they had also agreed to take regular breaks away from the rest of the world to focus on their relationship. He was already looking forward to the weekend, because while they had been able to talk every evening, getting caught back up had put a small halt to the physical side of things.

"Sweet Merlin, Ron! Can you stop looking like that?" Harry said, his face puckering like he had just swallowed a glass of bad pumpkin juice.

Ron perched himself on the corner of his friend's desk, tossing down the papers he had carried over. "Like what? Devastatingly attractive? Sorry, mate, but it's a curse I have to bear."

Harry threw a crumpled sheet of parchment at him, which he batted out of the way. "No, you pillock! That smug, shit eating grin! How can you do that and whistle at the same time? The human mouth shouldn't be capable of that."

Feigning affront, Ron asked, "What, can't I be happy?"

"You're more than happy. That is not the smile of a happy man. That is the smile of a man who has been...engaging in carnal pleasures," Harry said with an exaggerated shudder.

That caused Ron to hoot with laughter, slapping his leg. "Carnal pleasures? Have you been spending time with Mum lately? Besides, I just got married; what'd you expect!"

Harry ran his hands through his hair, rearranging the tufts that seemed to pop up, regardless of how much he brushed them down. "I expected you to act normal, seeing as how you haven't exactly been living like a monk since the summer you and Hermione got together. I expected not to have to see every randy thought flashing across your face in regards to someone I think of as a sister."

Ron shrugged. "Turnabout, and all that. You're just hacked because Ginny's away at training."

He knew he had struck a mark when Harry began to blush, dropping his eyes to the quill he was fiddling with, suddenly intensely interested.

"Shaddup. Don't you have an exam you should be preparing for?"

Before Ron could fire back a nasty retort at that unwelcome reminder, a voice called his name from across the room.

"Weasley? Just got a request sending for you to see if your testimony about some mission or other could be of any use. You should probably get a move on."

He waved to Sethwyke to show he had gotten the message. "Sorry to leave you to do the paperwork by yourself, Harry."

"No you're not. I can hear you snickering on the inside."

"Yeah, you're right; still get points for the effort."

Hopping off the desk, he checked his watch on the way to the door, wondering if this would kill time until it was late enough to clock out. In the outer office, he nodded at Mavis, a middle-aged witch who reminded him of a more laid back version of his Mum. She smiled cheerfully as she sorted through files, and he reminded himself to pick up one of those quills that made your handwriting clearer; she had been helpful to him on several occasions and he didn't want to make her job any harder by forcing her to decipher his writing.

Outside the office, he turned left, deciding to take the back way to the lifts. He didn't really feel like being stopped by too many people, and it was quicker, anyway. He was just passing a supply closet when an arm shot out, grabbed him by the robes, and yanked him in with a startled yelp. Tripping over his feet, he crashed into a much shorter person. A much shorter person that instantly pressed their curvy (compared to his lank form, at any rate) body into his, alerting his keen senses to the fact that he was now trapped in a dark supply closet with some unknown woman. He began to claw out of her grasp like Crookshanks on bath day.

"Madam! Please! I'm a happily married wizard!"

"Glad to hear it; you can stop trying to escape now, because this is your equally happily married wife," came Hermione's voice, laced with amusement.

He stopped squirming. "Hermione? What are you doing here? You're going to make me late for a meeting; not that I wouldn't rather stand here chatting, with this corner of shelving digging into my back, but they might come looking for me."

"Lumos," she said, the tip of her wand glowing between them. "There is no meeting! That was just a ruse to get you here!"

Ron grinned. "A ruse? Should I have worn dark glasses and a fake mustache?"

She smacked his shoulder. "I'm trying to be romantic, and you're making fun of me!"

Restraining himself from asking when supply closets had been classified as romantic, he hurried to soothe her, "I'm all for romance! Haven't the last few weeks proven that? Or have you forgotten already?"

In the bluish light from her wand, he could see the color rise in her cheeks. "Actually, I could do with a bit of a reminder; that's why I'm here."

Plucking her wand from her hand, he set it on a lower shelf, so it wasn't shining directly into their eyes. "I reckon I can help with that," he said, just before his lips connected with hers. He had meant it to be gentle, and brief. But Hermione's hands, which had moved to cup his face, held him in place, and she deepened the kiss. They both moaned softly, and Ron realized, as the movements of her tongue became more suggestive, coupled with the way her hips kept grinding into him, that she had waylaid him for much more than a snog. This was confirmed when she stealthily undid his robes and pushed them down his shoulders, leaving him in his casual junior Auror uniform. He had left the jacket undone under his robes, and her fingers made quick work on the buttons of his button up shirt.

Not to be outdone, he managed to relieve her of her own robes, only pausing long enough for her to move her hands so he could discard it. She was wearing a thin jumper with her skirt today, and he pushed it up out of the way, squeezing her through the satiny cups of her bra. She nipped at his lower lip, worrying it between her teeth, the air crackling with their mounting pasion. He dropped a hand to her thigh, sneaking it up her skirt to work his fingers between her legs. The fabric was soaked, and he shoved it to the side to touch her directly. Pulling his head back, he leered down at her, watching as she tossed her hair back with a sigh.

"Something tells me that this wasn't a spur of the moment decision," he teased, both with his words and his hand.

"I've...ah! Been toying with the idea for awhile."

"Is that the only thing you've been toying with?" He growled playfully against her ear, pumping his fingers faster as she thrust her hips into his hand.

"M...Maybe," she admitted with a gasp, and he bit his lip at the images that one word put into his mind.

She was shakily undoing his belt and trousers, stroking firmly over the bulge in his boxers every few minutes. He was thrown off his rhythm when she lowered his trousers and pants down to his thighs, her hand wrapping around around him and giving a firm tug.

"Ron, can you please just-I need-"

Her words were completely unnecessary; bending his knees slightly, he gripped her by the back of her thighs and lifted, pinning her against the small portion of wall that wasn't covered by shelving. Her legs wrapped around him reflexively, and he lowered her down, burying his face into her neck at the feel of her surrounding him. Sharp nails dug into his shoulders, but he barely noticed, too focused on the place where they were joined together. The pulse at the side of her neck fluttered wildly, and he placed open mouthed kisses against her throat, taking pleasure in the way she tightened around him at the stimulation he paid to the sensitive flesh.

It wasn't long before he felt himself getting close, and he adjusted her so that he could slip one hand between them to help her get off faster. Her moans were getting louder, and to make sure they weren't overheard, he covered her mouth with his, swallowing the cries she let out when she finally came. Her release triggered his, and his hips thrust spasmodically a few more times before slowing down, the small room filled with the sounds of their ragged breathing.

He set Hermione back on her feet, keeping his hands on her waist as she unsteadily tried to regain her balance.

"Was that a good enough reminder, then?" He asked, still a bit out of breath.

She laughed as they both began to tidy themselves up. "I think it brought back a few hazy memories, but I might need your assistance again in the near future."

The buckle of his belt snapped into place as he smirked back. "Just send me a coded message telling me which closet you'll be in, and I'll do my best."

Ten minutes later, after a few more kisses and a promise to meet in the lobby before heading home, Ron strolled back into the Auror office, whistling even more cheerfully than he had been earlier. He went to check on Harry, to see if there was anything left to do. Harry took one look at him and made gagging noises, dropping his his head, face first, onto the table with a dull thud.

"Bloody hell; just when I thought it couldn't get any worse!" He lamented mournfully.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"Don't act innocent! You were just starting to lose the buzz you've been walking around with, and get back to normal. I don't know how you did it, and I don't want to know, but you've managed to stock yourself back up!" Harry accused, rolling his head to glare up at him with one eye.

Ron grinned wickedly, suddenly struck by an idea. He turned on the heel of his boot, going back the way he had entered.

"Ron? Where are you going?" Harry called after him.

He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes alight with mischief. "I'm going out to tell Mavis that I'm volunteering to make sure the supply closets stay fully...stocked."

Laughing, he left Harry choking at his desk, his mind already working on ways to convince Hermione to join him for a little two handed inventory.