And here we are at the last chapter. This has been such a nice story to write and it has been wonderful to see people are reading it. Special shout outs to: nirdoodle, Niel2804, LillyMay77, ObsessedRHShipper, tryntee13, chemrunner57, Dreamboy7, Gja03, Hinny FTW, Zalini, uhohspaghettiooos and the four Guests who took the time to send me a review and thank you to everyone who followed and favourited. Warning: sexy times and fluffstuff ahead. Enjoy!
CHAPTER TEN
FAVOURITE COUPLE OF ALL
Travelling home was a surreal experience. They didn't speak much after this ultimate declaration. Ron retrieved his hoodie and locked the office and then they walked together to the bus stop. But the buses were slow to arrive and Ron hailed a cab- there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them that this was urgent. Somewhere in the hot darkness of the cab they held hands and both took the time to appreciate both how that felt and what it looked like, Hermione's diminutive palm locked in Ron's long fingers.
Ron directed the cab driver to his house and still they didn't speak. He paid the fare as the car pulled up to his gate, helped Hermione step down and walked her up the path. She watched him unlock the door, followed him into the hall and then on into the depth of the house.
"I had you down for an apartment," Hermione said finally looking around, her voice a little shaky. "You know, single boy living alone. Lots of black leather and electronics." She was taken aback at how cosy Ron had made the place. The sofa was leather but it was a deep maroon colour with abstract print cushions that looked inviting. She walked round the room, admiring the framed pictures of his family, the huge terracotta armchair facing the tv. She could see Ron in her mind's eye, legs slung over the arm, shouting at the football and drinking beer with Harry. The thought made her smile.
When she had made the full 360, she came back to him, leaning against the dining table at the top of the room. He was biting his lip and half smiling, hardly moving and not speaking. They had rushed to get here and now they stood still.
The stillness was momentary; Hermione couldn't wait any longer and she wouldn't let him prolong it any further. She crossed the space between them, much like he had done that night in the street. But this time, when their lips touched it was honest and real.
Kissing Ron was nothing short of lightning bolts and thunder and it made her body sing. The meeting of their mouths happened with such fierceness she was instantly breathless and struggling between drawing breath and keeping them together. His fingers scrunched her hair into his fist while his other arm wrapped her flush to him, his pelvis to her belly. She had almost caught her breath when she felt her feet leave the floor as he set her onto the table.
Ron pulled back long enough to unzip and remove her coat. He quickly divested her of her sweater, leaving just the neon pink lace bra. He placed his hand either side of her abdomen and for a moment, just looked at her. Seconds ticked by and Hermione felt self-consciousness swell.
"I'm not 23 anymore."
Ron exhaled sharply and dropped his head to laugh. "Fuck Hermione." When he raised his head again his blue eyes were so heavy with desire, she felt the thump of it in her core. "If you think you aren't the sexiest thing I have ever seen, you're crazy."
He grabbed her face and licked into her mouth at the exact moment she spread her thighs and he pressed between them. She pulled his shirt from his trousers and blindly unbuttoned. She managed to get half the buttons undone before he dropped her head to the side and bit into her neck, extracting a small yelp which melted into a groan. The bite turned into a suck, tender skin caught between tooth and lip, as Ron's deft fingers snapped open her bra.
Hermione felt the weight of her breasts fall against her ribs and immediately Ron had pressed his palm over one, roughly squeezing her nipple, working it in his fingers as he applied more force to her neck. The sensation of pain mixed with her arousal was a potent aphrodisiac. She ground her hips against him, hoping he would understand. This was no long, slow burn fuck. This needed to happen. Quickly.
She heard him laugh against her neck and ran his mouth up to her ear. "Impatient."
"I can't... This isn't going to last Ron." She bucked her hips again and he took the hint. Back on her mouth and without breaking the connection he pulled her from the table, allowing her to unbutton her jeans and push them down over her hips. Scrambling back onto the table, Hermione reached for him again, kicking her legs to release the remainder of her clothes. Drawing her nails up his back over his shirt, skin that had forgotten what it was like to be stimulated in this way, she felt him shiver.
As if it somehow fired him up further, Ron trailed his hand over her stomach and between her legs. She could feel the pads of two fingers come to rest on her soaked knickers, at first applying light pressure that she could barely discern then gradually becoming stronger, a slow circle over her clit. The snag of the wet cotton on the sensitive skin brought her closer still to orgasm and Hermione desperately tried to stop herself from going over the edge.
She focused on the heat of his hand on her back, fingers dimpling the skin, and the lash of his tongue in her mouth. She felt one finger creep around the lace, followed by the other and for a wild moment, as he pushed his fingers inside her, she wondered if he still remembered how to get her there. They had spent many hours perfecting each other's techniques so at one point, they were world class specialists in making each other come. That had been ten years ago, though. Lots of things had changed since then.
But when Ron hooked his finger inside her, thumb pressed firmly against her clit and whispered, 'come for me', she knew she was done for. Her orgasm crested over her from the deepest part of her belly and switched on each cell in her body. She felt herself drop against Ron momentarily, his strong hand supporting her in the aftermath of the chaos his other hand had wreaked. She raised her head to his face and kissed his softly smiling mouth as the tremors faded.
What started gently progressed quickly as the kiss deepened and Hermione worked at Ron's fly, releasing his trousers and boxers to his feet. He pulled her close, enveloping her body into his arms as they kissed and she could feel his erection pressing against her, ramping up the excitement in her own body again. Hermione broke the kiss and stared into his eyes, wanting to stamp this exact moment on her brain forever. Laying back on to the table, she watched Ron pull her knickers off, wriggling her hips and making him groan. He lightly ran the tip of his cock over her drenched slit in retaliation and she groped for the sides of the table, gripping firmly to stop herself from crying out. He entered her slowly, inch by inch and the ache of her opening up for him bordered on pain.
"Fuuuck," Ron hissed, pulling her by the hips so she was pressed right against him. Using her grip on the table to power her, Hermione pushed against him, matching his thrusts, arse banging the table in protest at their height difference. She knew he wouldn't last long, how could he when it felt this good? Sure enough, the thrusting became quicker, breathing harder and Ron leant over her, one hand pressed against the wood underneath her. She rose up slightly to meet him and met his eyes at the second he lost control. The sensation triggered her own orgasm and she drove their hips together again and again until they were spent.
Ron pressed his face to her belly and gasped lungfuls of air. That was monumental, he had forgotten how it felt to come with her. And how it felt to make her writhe in pleasure and pain. There would always be a depraved part of him that relishing fucking the Head Girl.
He rose slowly, pulling her carefully with him. Her hair had been shagged within an inch of its life against the wood grain and created a fluffy halo round her head. He had forgotten, in the heat of the moment, how uneven the roughhewn wood was. In his befuddled, orgasmed induced stupor he made a note to check Hermione for splinters later.
Ron pulled his trousers back up to his hips and loosely fastened them. Hermione made to reach for her jeans and he stopped her.
"Leave them, we're only going upstairs."
"But you have yours!" she protested, gesturing at his shirt.
He captured her hand and twirled her towards the door. "Not for long."
His bedroom was grey, lighter on the wall, darker on the carpet, with a robust walnut headboard on the king sized bed. Hermione crawled on to it, lying down on top of the white sheets and blankets as he lay beside her. On the opposite wall, hung a black and white canvas of a ram.
"You still support Derby." He had taken her hand again and was kissing each knuckle.
"You never change football teams."
"Are they still the worst ever football team of all time?"
He mocked frowned. "Oi. Don't disrespect the team. You're only in the door."
He saw her stomach muscles clench out the corner of his eye and he knew why. This would be the first, of many times, that they would have to address this new development. As with anything serious, Ron preferred to do it with humour but Hermione was more a soul searching, deep exploration type. This would be heavy in her mind.
"Was it too soon?" She raised an eyebrow in query. "This. I knew I wanted to, I think you wanted to as well. But I can see how maybe we should have waited. Made it special?"
"Oh God Ron, no!" she quickly jumped in, snatching her hand from where he held it near his mouth and taking his face in it. "That was exactly the way it should have been. It was special. God, I had been wanting to do that since I came into the office today. I'm not sure how security would have felt if we had started going at it on your desk though."
Ron thought about Liam disturbing them mid fuck. "He would have approved mostly likely. 'Good for you son!'" Ron began running a trail over her skin with his middle finger: collarbone, nipple, belly button, the supple skin on her inside thigh. He examined the spidery white lines at the top of her thighs, feeling the texture difference in them, stark in comparison to the rest of her skin.
Hermione sat up on her elbows. "I've put on weight since I broke up with Viktor. I went from eating nothing to eating everything. None of my clothes fit me anymore." She grimaced. "And the worst part is, I've developed stretchmarks."
Ron caressed one of the bands lightly. "What this little thing? You can hardly see it."
"I know. It's silly isn't it. I shouldn't mind them so much but they make me feel unattractive. They aren't exactly sexy are they?"
Ron considered this, suddenly aware that this could be the moment. If Hermione was wondering why he had kept his shirt on, she hadn't mentioned it. She must know but she had been thoughtful enough to wait and let him find his own time. Which seemed like now.
Taking her hands, he pulled her up so they were facing each other kneeling on the bed.
"Do you think I'm sexy Hermione?"
She beamed up at him. "Of course I do. After what just happened I don't think anybody can be in any doubt about that."
He dropped her hands and deftly unbuttoned his shirt, not giving her time to think about what was about to happen. Once undone, he let it fall off his shoulders and onto the bed. "What about now?"
He saw the mirth leave her eyes and her mouth dropped open slightly. He had a head start on her, ten years to get used to them. It was strange seeing the reaction of someone new; he didn't show them to anybody. Even during the few flings he had undertaken over the years, he had kept his arms covered. He would tell girls it turned him on, sex half clothed. No one ever questioned him. The only time he was ever without a shirt outside was at home in Ottery St Catchpole when he was helping his mother in the garden and even then he couldn't keep uncovered for too long for fear of sunburn. His family and his doctors were the only people who had ever seen them up close. And here he was, showing them to Hermione.
"Can I?" He nodded and she began lightly tracing his arms, one finger, then two. Her touch was cold and strangely abnormal. Her hands on his face, chest- that all felt familiar and right. The scar tissue was new. It was untouched by anyone except him, for a long time now. She followed the ropes round the backs of his arms, areas even he didn't touch purposefully, and the skin tingled. Goosebumps appeared on the areas of normal skin and she met his eye.
"Sorry. Did I hurt you?" He shook his head no and she carried on, mapping out each area of affected flesh until she had studied it all. Hermione sat back on her heels, face flush.
"I didn't know what to expect. I knew there had to be scarring, what you did... I just didn't know."
"They're quite faded now, they used be really red and angry looking. They look worse than they are, honestly. They don't hurt, sometimes they feel a bit tight. There was a lot of contracture at one point so that had to be surgically released. But after that settled, it has just been getting used to them."
Hermione rubbed his forearms with her thumbs, looking closely at the white spiderwebs overlying the shallow pale pink craters. She didn't say anything as she brushed her skin over his, which was slightly unnerving. Ron had been hesitant about doing this but underneath his initial fear, he instinctively felt it would be safe. This was Hermione- if any harbour was sheltered then she was it. She had loved him despite all his faults; this couldn't be a deal breaker.
She had been silent for a long time, though, and she was starting to worry him. Perhaps he had underestimated how shocking this would be. He had gotten used to the look of himself; this must be overwhelming. Like Hermione had said downstairs, they weren't 23 anymore.
"What is it?"
She blinked and released a heavy tear he hadn't seen forming. Concern broke in him but she shh'd him when he tried to speak. "Sorry, I didn't mean to cry. I just.."
"What?"
"I feel so guilty Ron," she replied quietly, wiping her face. "This is my fault. If I had've moved out of the way sooner, you wouldn't have had to push me. You've lived with these scars for ten years and I did this. I don't know what to say."
Relief coursed through him. "Bloody hell Hermione. Guilt? You think guilt is the worst case scenario?" She stared at him, a mix of confusion and despair. He took her face in his hands and planted a kiss on her mouth. "I was expecting repulsion. Disgust. I thought you were going to tell me they were revolting!" He kissed her again, suddenly heady with delight.
"You don't disgust me Ron!" she spluttered, attempting to untangle herself from his enthusiastic embrace. "I would never say that. I love you no matter what. But..."
"BUT NOTHING!" he shouted over her, pulling her closely until she gave up struggling. "You love me. Just as I am. Nothing else matters." He squeezed and released her, dazed, back to the bed. "You don't have to feel guilty for anything, love. I would do it again."
"Don't say that. I would never want you to do that." Hermione looked so apprehensive, Ron knew he needed to address this right now, else it seeped into every day from now.
"Look Hermione. I don't regret it. At. All. Never. It was the single most physically painful thing I have ever experienced and it took me to a really dark place. The recovery was miserable, living at home was shit. For God's sake I started letting mum cut my hair again because I didn't want to face anyone. I didn't sleep for months because it was so uncomfortable. I took painkillers in tablets, patches and impregnated dressings and it usually wasn't enough."
Hermione's mouth was slowly turning down with each sentence.
"But the one thing that kept me going was knowing that you weren't having to do it. If one of us had to go through all of that, I'm glad it was me."
"It shouldn't have been either of us..."
"No it shouldn't. But it happened and it was me and I'm glad." She shook her head. "You can't stop me being glad, love. I'll always be grateful. I'd never have gotten over it if this had've been the other way round. Honestly the worst days of the whole thing were the first after I woke up. I could feel how badly I was hurt and I thought that meant you were the same. I was so drowsy I was incoherent most of the time and I kept asking Mum how bad you were but she didn't really understand. She just kept telling me you were fine. When I was awake, all I thought about was you. I couldn't bear that you were injured."
Hermione was fully crying now, hands pressed to her face. Ron cupped her hands with his own and kissed her forehead.
"No more tears, Lady Hermione." His schooldays nickname for her brought an abrupt end to her snuffling and he thumbed her face dry. "When I was eventually able to hold a conversation and I found out that you were okay, it made everything easier. It felt like a weight had been lifted. Seeing you walking around, your pretty face. It got me through. So no more tears. Its over."
He held her for a while and when she pulled away from him, she still appeared flushed. "I'm mortified I'm crying about this and it happened to you. It's so selfish."
"It happened to both of us," Ron replied matter-of-factly, running a thumb over the scar on her forearm.
"Oh that," she responded, instantly dismissive, "That's nothing. God, it doesn't even compare."
"Well then let's come to an agreement. No more discussion about scars. Ever. We'll just forget them. Even those little wonky ones here." He gently brushed the stretchmarks on her thigh.
For the first time, she laughed a little. Taking a long inhale, she said, "Yes, ok. No more talk about scars." She was silent for a moment and then looked down at her body. "I'm suddenly really aware that I'm naked."
Ron whooped and pulled her down onto the bed with him. "My favorite way for you to be. Never put clothes on again ever."
She laughed against his mouth as he kissed her. "We might have to get up at some point."
"Not for a good long while though. We have to make up for lost time. Now, back to you telling me how sexy I was.." With that, he pulled her onto him and kissed her the way he had wanted to forever.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Molly Weasley was uncomfortable about a June wedding. Marry when June roses grow, over land and sea you'll go, that's what her mother used to say and Molly had been telling anyone who would listen that this meant that the newlyweds would soon travel far away from her. But even she had to admit that when the sun rose that morning, you could feel that it was going to be a perfect day. The ceremony had been sweet and personal, many tears shed, and now she stood outside City Hall, her arm tucked inside Arthur's, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her back. To her left her children stood, occasionally shoving each other playfully or hooting with laughter. Her daughter looked radiant and content, cuddling her baby son to her chest, his chunky little legs kicking aimlessly and her husband, the boy who was already part of the family long before Ginny married him, alongside her, one protective arm slung easily along the base of her spine. Her sons and their wives sorting children of various sizes and ages, scolding and hugging in equal measure. All this family life, so normal and humdrum, was what made Molly happiest.
But she had always worried about her youngest son. Of course she worried about them all and there had been trials and tribulations with each over the years. Ronald, however, gave her pause for thought. Head in the clouds one minute, beating up school bullies on Harry's behalf the next. Molly and Arthur had never been sure what he was going to come home and tell them next. And Hermione Granger. Well, Molly had seen the signs long before Ron even suspected. One day he was a grubby teenaged scrap who hid slugs in his classmates' schoolbags for laughs and refused to bathe more than twice a week. When she next looked, he had grown a foot, took longer in the shower than the entire family put together and had actually started to comb his hair. Ginny used to squeal the place down when she found him in her bedroom stealing her acne lotion or hair gel. Conversations were peppered with 'Hermione said' and 'me and Hermione'.
Molly had been delighted when it turned out Hermione liked him too. She knew Ron was wonderful but teenaged girls could be so fickle. When it all seemed to work out, Molly's heart felt happy. But then came the accident and it seemed like nothing would ever fit right again. It had taken Ron so long to get up and over the hurdles he faced and he had refused to do it with Hermione by his side. Molly didn't blame Hermione for going away, she felt more anger when she heard she had returned and was engaged to Viktor Krum. She had been very wary when Ron had showed up at the Burrow, Hermione under his arm, so elated that they were back together. All the heart ache forgotten. Molly wasn't ashamed of the fact that she had given Hermione quite a hard time at the start. They all had. Even George, whom Molly considered her most even-tempered child, had treated Hermione with frosty indifference.
But Hermione had weathered it out. She was serious about becoming part of the family again, dedicated to her future with Ron. She took every offhand remark or snarky comment on the chin until there were no more remarks or comments to make. And now, here they were.
A cheer rose up from Molly's right where friends and work colleagues stood. Ron and Hermione stepped up to the entrance of City Hall, framed by the blue double doors. Hermione was luminous in a white shift dress, softly fluted in an A line to her knees and cinched with a slim white belt. Summery coral nails peeked out from her sling back peep toe sandals and her hair had been tamed, the upper half into a soft low bee hive, the lower half into satin waves round her shoulders. In one hand she carried a posy of daffodils and forget-me-nots. In the other, she clasped her husband's hand. Ron's grey three piece fit to the leanness of his body, making him appear even taller than usual and more graceful. His smile had yet to break though it had been present from early morning.
As the photographer fussed round them, setting up equipment and checking the light, Hermione looked at Ron in profile, distracted by something one of his brothers had shouted. The redness of his hair gleamed in the sunlight, his whole face open and blissful. She couldn't quite believe that she had the power to make this man so happy. What a wonderful gift. The thought that it had almost been taken away made her feel unnerved and she unwittingly squeezed his hand.
"Ok?" He smiled across at her. "Those heels must be massive. We're the same size!"
"All the better to kiss you with Mr. Weasley," Hermione replied, pressing her lips to his nose. "Ooops, lipstick." She gently thumbed the print off.
"Thank you Mrs. Weasley." Ron was fighting a certain amount of disbelief himself. No one falls in love with their best friend from school and marries her. That was the story he had been telling himself for years. There were literally a million scenarios that were more likely than this one and yet he was standing outside City Hall on a beautiful June day clutching the hand of the girl he had scribbled notes to in study period. They had gone from 'will you do the introduction to my History essay?' to 'will you be my wife?' and Ron had always felt like that was precarious somehow. That it shouldn't have been this easy.
"It shouldn't have been this easy," he said out loud, surprising himself.
Hermione frowned. "What shouldn't?"
"I was just thinking… it shouldn't be as easy as marrying your childhood sweetheart,"
Laughter erupted from Hermione. "Good grief Ronald, there are a lot of words I would use to describe our journey to this point. Easy is not one of them."
Startled, he realised she was right. Their relationship had been seriously arduous at times, they almost hadn't made it. Why was he looking for the trapdoors now?
He laughed with her. "Yeah. I guess that's true."
"Right guys, we're good to go," the photographer called up to them. "Give her a kiss Ron."
Hermione leaned towards him but Ron put a restraining hand up. "Hold it. I have seen my share of weddings here, we have a lot to live up to. This can't be just any old kiss." He took Hermione's flowers from her and carefully set them to one side. Turning, he slid one long arm up her back, cradling the base of head in his hand. With other hand firm on her hip bone he stepped forward and dipped her back.
Hermione squealed, fingers clenching his arms as more cheers and yells erupted. "Ron!"
He laughed, his breath warm on her face. "Has to be a proper old style Hollywood kiss, love. Weasleys don't do anything by halves." As his lips touched hers, Hermione reached up and cupped his jaw softly, pressing closer to him, feeling safe in his arms.
Above the heads of this most happiest of couples hung a fabulous sunburst window, bursting with sun. And was it just the imagination, or did it twinkle just a little bit brighter when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took their big kiss? As if they were its favorite couple of all.