Anam Cara - - (Soul Mate)

Alternate Universe (AU) Does not follow established cannon.

Rated MA – mature audiences

88**88

Chapter 10 – a dream made real

88**88

They ran across the grounds, hand in hand, running like their lives depended on it.

The wind whipped around him, and though he ran urgently, he felt happy, truly happy for the first time in longer than he could remember. His legs were much longer than hers, so she had to run doubly fast to keep up with his strides, but when he looked at her, she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she looked as happy as he felt. Finally, they had found each other, and he wouldn't let her go. So they ran together, away from everything and everyone except each other.

Once they reached the large oak tree that stood nearest to the Quidditch pitch, Hermione threw herself on the ground, laughing that intoxicating laugh. The sound resonated throughout his body. It felt right. They felt right. Ron joined her on the damp grass, and lay down on his side, his head propped up by his arm, elbow on the grass. He studied her openly.

"You're beautiful when you laugh."

"Only when I laugh" She asked teasingly; and he found he rather liked this side of her.

"Not only when you laugh. You're especially beautiful when we make love", he openly confessed. Hermione didn't blush at this – and neither did he – but she did smile the most radiant smile he had ever seen. He could feel the warmth from that one smile scorch him to the core.

"I also love it when we fu*k", she said unashamedly.

By using profanity; that one word, his body responded immediately.

"Language", he teased, although Ron went nuts whenever she talked dirty.

Hermione's smile turned wicked, mischievous. She licked her lips, causing Ron to groan. He didn't know how he was controlling himself, how it was that he hadn't torn her clothes from her body just yet and loved her like she deserved to be loved. - No. Something was telling him to hold back just a-little longer, and watch. It was an urgent feeling he had, that he should wait and see.

Ron was rewarded for his patience.

She crawled over to him, with predator like grace, her desire for him plain on her face. Silently, she removed his clothes; Ron's only movement was to help her rid himself of his restrictive clothing. And then he was naked before her, although Hermione was still fully clothed. He tried to reign in the anticipation he felt when he looked into her eyes. She wanted him – of that, he was eternally sure – and he wanted her more than life itself. She was his breath, his water, his life. There would never be another.

Ron sat up, propping his back up against the tree, and watched her, fascinated. She was on her knees in-between his legs now, putting him and Hermione on eye level with each other. His eyes shut of their own volition when Hermione's lips brushed his. It was only a tender touch, fleeting, but it was enough to inflame his desire. Anything this woman did affected him so deeply, even the simplest of touches. He wanted so much to bury his hands in her wild hair and pull her roughly to him, but he didn't. - He loved when she aggressively took charge as something told him she needed to do this her way.

As his manliness wasn't negatively affected by a resolute lover, he let her take the lead.

Their kisses at first were soft and gentle, sweet nips and love-bites, nothing breaking the skin - nothing fierce, only barely touching. It was enough to drive him mad. He had the distinct impression that this method was exactly what she had in mind. The very fact that she was slowly driving him mental, with her mouth and tongue … that she was licking his bare skin so enticingly. God almighty, she was literally torturing him!

He didn't even realize he had moaned her name aloud, until he felt her smile against his cheek. She smugly knew exactly what she was doing to him. He could feel it. And she was enjoying the empowering control. Before long, that tongue of hers was licking a path down his chest, where she briefly became re-acquainted with his nipples. Torture and bliss, both were interchangeable at that moment, but he wouldn't have traded this for anything in the entire world.

Hermione's hands meanwhile had not by any means; been idle, they freely explored his body, grazing his skin, eliciting moan after moan, and growl after growl. The slowness with which she was touching him was excruciatingly arousing. He had never been so hard in his life. Her small hand finally wrapped around his length, causing his head to fall back and hit the tree behind him. Even that felt good.

But then with tantalizing slowness she lowered her head and when her mouth enveloped his length completely, he thought he would die from the pleasure. For months, during the previous summer, he had fantasized about a mysterious woman, and what she would do to pleasure him, and this dream was one of his favorites – the one where she sucked him had been one of his most treasured fantasies. He could hardly believe that, after all this time, his dream woman would turn out to be Hermione. And that she was taking him, rock-hard into the deepest part of her mouth …WOW

The sight of her, with his penis sliding between her lips, was probably the sexiest thing he had ever seen. His best teenage fantasies hadn't even come close to this. Hermione looked so wanton, so wild, yet she was still his very proper Hermione, as she was still fully clothed. His hands snaked themselves into her tangles of hair, guiding her movements *gently* (as it wasn't in him to force her to do anything) with the lightest touch, showing her exactly which rhythm would send him over the edge. But at the last second he had fought to hold back.

"I want to be inside you, Hermione Jean. Please, I need you," he rasped, close to coming. He wanted to pleasure her as well. Gently, she released him. Her brown eyes radiated with passion, a passion he was certain mirrored his own.

"When are you going to let go in my mouth, I really want to experience what's its like to be a really-good _'c*cksu*ker'," - She teased him gently. He wanted that as well, to let go, but right now they both needed to go off together it was just undeniable. She pouted a-bit before she rose to her feet then disrobed before him. Little by little, she exposed her skin to his gaze. She had such lovely skin, so soft and creamy. A woman's skin, not rough like his.

An eternity seemed to pass before she was fully naked to him, and Ron took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her. The moonlight illuminated her perfectly. His eyes travelled the length of her legs, all the way up to that tiny patch of curls found at the junction of her thighs. He licked his lips, as he took in the rest of her. Her flat stomach, smooth and soft, her breasts – oh God, those breasts – that felt like they were made just for him, as he knew they fit perfectly in his hands and mouth.

Hermione came towards him, and straddled his lap. She liked enormously, the fact that she could ride him from on top, in the dominate position … knowing all too well that her former dorm mates had always complained about being 'taken' while flat on their backs or from behind. For his part: Ron really didn't care which angle his erection probed her opening, and it delighted him at how aggressively she insisted on changing things up, by using some obscure position the bookworm within her had found in the Karma Sutra. - All he cared about was how wet she was, how eager and aggressively she made love to him, how when she really got worked-up; how dirty-mouthed Miss Prim and proper became whenever she_ banged his brains out.

A moment later, she had his entire length inside her, swiftly descending upon him. When she hit bottom she cried out: "you are MINE now and I'm going to Fu*k-you extra hard, my pet" – she panted. "Ride your sweet c*ck cowgirl style - like a bull in a rodeo, and drain every ounce of spunk in your balls", she groaned-out as she felt every inch of him inside her, for they were joined again. - - Whole!

Ron instinctively bent his knees upward, so that his lap became a human saddle, If Hermione was talking this dirty this soon into the coupling, that meant that he'd need both hands to keep her steady. He loved it when she went totally wild, when she closed her eyes and leaned back on his raised thighs.

She began slowly at first, moving up and down, sliding his rigid shaft in and out of her. He leaned slightly forward, dipping his head, and captured a bouncing nipple between his lips. Hermione softly moaned his name, begging him never to stop. His tongue swirled over her rosy flesh, making it pucker and harden under his touch. When he sucked harder, she shuddered and shivered, rocking her hips against him harder. Then, he released her, only to repeat the torture with her previously neglected other nipple.

They rocked together, the motion patient and deep. Ron was firmly buried inside her, thrusting up hard to meet each downward stroke … never wanting to leave her warmth.

Her head titled sharply down and she pause at the very bottom of a particularly deep downward stroke, her mouth found his, but gone were the light teasing kisses from before. Their kisses had become urgent and long. Hermione's tongue licked for entrance, which Ron greedily granted. Their tongues collided, sending shockwaves down Ron's spine. Hermione's hands cupped his facial cheeks, as she grinded her vagina onto his upright manhood, her naked flesh pressed hard against his, sweaty chest- against sweat covered-chest… hot skin on skin. He swallowed her moans, as she did his. - Ron's arms briefly let go of her hips, reaching up her back to pull her closer.

Their mouths parted, and Hermione looked down at him and panted: "the preliminaries are over Ronnie, no more miss nice girl, now I'm going to_ f*ck you really hard".

And she did.

His hands instantly took a two handed grip on her hips, holding her as tight and steady as he could, as his own hips resumed thrusting up hard to meet her. Their hot skin slapped against each other, with the smell of hot sex hanging heavy in the air around them, contained by a light bluish bubble. - Ron at that point needed every inch of her so badly _ and he guessed Hermione felt the same, because she began bouncing up and down on his lap so bloody-hard, all the while running a screamingly commentary of profanity that would have made any_ b*tch in heat; proud, with her vulgar rant all-about what she was going to do to him in the future. And sweet Merlin on a bike – primarily because it was so out of character …a talking dirty Hermione was so frigging HOT!

Grunting and groaning profanity, with one hand on his shoulder to help her stay upright, the other hand fell down between them to the place their bodies united. Ron almost came when he saw her touch herself. Without thinking, his entire attention focuses on that one spot. He watches her fingers spread her folds and openly rub her clitoris. God it was hot. Ron could tell when Hermione's fingers clearly hit the mother lode - because a instant later her head was thrown back, her mouth dropped open and a silent moan caught in her throat, but unable to escape due to all the stimulation.

When she came, mere moments later, she shuddered violently, her entire body tensing around him, and her vagina contracting, while literally sucking on his deeply embedded erection, causing his own powerful climax. She collapsed down on him and went limp_ and when sometime later, she once again found her voice, she lifted her head slowly with a huge cat ate the canary look of satisfaction on her face, all but mewing in contentment, as he kept trying to catch his breath, she looked at him … smiled a lazy smile and said: "Now that Ronnie, was a proper F*ck".

Hermione kissed his neck, sucking at the flesh, and leaving a love bite (hickey),or two - and then whispered in his ear, "I know love bites are immature my Luv, but every so often I feel the need to leave a public reminder to others, that your sweet c*ck … is

mine"

Her words made him rock hard all over again.

Ron thrust upward …hard, one last time, reseating himself fully within, she grunted at the feeling, smiled down at him lustfully and said: "Not enough for you, well that's just fine with me … let's have another go … shall we?"

Mine…

88**

Consciousness overtook him slowly, lazily, and he fought it with everything he had. Ron was having the most amazing dream, one from which he did not want to wake, but the crick in his neck was pronounced and uncomfortable. He tried to adjust his position - - Funny thing-that … for he couldn't really move. It felt like a weight was atop him because something was making it very difficult to do anything but lie still.

His eyelid forced the sleep away, as it gradually opened. Ron squinted as the morning rays hit him square in the face. It was almost like the sun was shining directly on him, illuminating his entire bed like a torch. And then he saw - her.

Hermione was lying on top of him, straddling his lap, her body softly flung forward so that she completely covered him. - He barely noticed the bluish haze surround them both fade away (but he'd think about that later) he tried to move again and the crick in his neck flared up. And it was only then that he realized he had been sleeping propped up against the headboard.

But it was only when Hermione stirred … that he realized his penis was still rock hard inside her.

Ron groaned aloud at the beautiful sensation.

This was just like his dream. In fact, it was almost exactly like his dream, save the oak tree near the Quidditch pitch - Oh Bloody-Hell … Had they really? - - They must have! - He was still hard and tightly tucked inside her quite comfortably. They had just made love in their sleep, and he hadn't been awake to enjoy it more fully… Darn-it! … (Did I just say darn-it?)

Well, he did remember the dream, and could remember that he did enjoy it quite a lot... A whole lot actually. The only fantasy part being Hermione talking dirty _ and that-bit had been extra hot. – But poor 'ickle Ronnie' knew with almost total certainty, that Hermione Jean did not have a single profane bone in her body. She did NOT use such language. 'And that was a gigantic pity, really' …he said to himself as he shifted position again, causing his erection to bury itself even deeper within her, and in reaction to bottoming-out …he hardened all the way almost instantly, marveling at the fact that Hermione could arouse him again so quickly.

"Let's have another go, shall we," Hermione mumbled sleepily, still not fully awake.

Grinning, he complied. Who was he to deny a lady?

*-*-* 88 - let's try Ron's POV for a-bit

I angled my hips, moving inside her slowly, fully. Hermione moaned, and a small, contented smile graced her lips. God, she was beautiful. Why had I never really noticed how *drop dead glorious* she was naked? - Well, that wasn't the complete truth. - - I had noticed that she was a stunner (fully dressed) but regretfully; I had never seen her in even a swimming costume at the Burrow. She had claimed it was due to fair skin, but that was yet another lie, like the Krum pen-pal rubbish, and until last night I feared that the slashing curse (dept. of Mysteries battle) had left her horribly disfigured, and therefore extraordinarily inhibited about showing skin, - but the same thought that morning made me smile, for after very-very close examination I had discover only a faint red scare no bigger that a pencil line. Thank-God she had no heavy scaring like I did; the BRAIN had left big marks on me, lots of them.

So I had happily acknowledged that she was both free of scarring_ and delicious looking when naked. She had grown up quite nicely; actually. But in all the years I've know her; Hermione Jean had never worn a top that was even remotely skin tight, or even a hint of showing cleavage. I've never known a girl to work so hard to conceal her femininity. - Nope … beyond that one pair of jeans that clung like a second skin to her admittedly tiny, but tightly sculptured rear-end: Hermione Jean never dressed sexy or empathized in more than a passing fashion, her femaleness_ and yet *Sweet Lord* I did so love the sight of Hermione in tight jeans.

But after being dumped by fate when our paths changed directions dramatically at Dumbledore's funeral, what kind of _*only a friend* would I have been if I continued to openly lust after his semi-sister like Seamus did with anything wearing a skirt?

Seamus is a pig … just saying

I didn't feel comfortable using any of the- 'Finnegan pick-up lines' – which weren't all that good… or effective_ 'By-the-way'. - So I wasn't a Finnegan pervert, and yet here it was the classic *morning after* and how was I going to explain the fact, that Hermione (of all people) had made love to me frantically last night, like it was the only thing she could do to keep from going insane … only to made love- 'again' – in a shared dream?

I continued to gently pump my manhood into Hermione knowing full well that she would look at this entirely bizarre incident with her stereotypical emotionally detached logic, declaring that the medallion had affected us and that now that they had consummated the spell, it was most likely over and they should be going back to normal …right-way.

The thing was, I didn't want things to go back to normal. I wanted to be with her, inside her …always. - Before this whole medallion thing happened, I had made the effort to move on (post Granger fixation) and embrace my life as an apprenticed shop-keeper (really I had …honestly). Her rejection of me (Twice …or was it four times now) was still a major sore spot, which was easily explained by the fact, that I had only one year and a-half ago given-up on chasing a girl that loved only Harry. (It's still a work in progress … okay… moving on is Bloody hard)

There was a civil-war going on too and Tommie boy, but that was Harry's problem … wasn't it. I was out of the front lines in my tiny shop in London, content with my shop-clerk position in Diagon Alley. I fully intended to do my-bit when the time came (in the war) and felt lucky to be surrounded by good friends and family, but deep down I had known I wasn't doing enough - - I had realized that there was still a significant piece of my-self missing. It was as if I was only a half person. I'd tried dating, but that was another major failure … I suppose.

That feeling, of being only one-half, of a coin had gone away last night – but only for one night. Making love to Hermione made me feel whole and complete, but I also felt guilty of the crime of poaching or more properly, the temporary procession of stolen (romantic) goods. – She wanted Harry instead of me and that was the foundation of my problem at its core; a magical romance triangle tragedy – in the making.

She was annoying and pushy and beautiful and so wickedly smart she scares me - Worse of all, I knew deep down that she belonged to Harry – body and soul – and that meant that when she awoke this morning … a beautiful dream would most likely end … for me.

If I could; I wouldn't ever let her go, but unrequited love meant unreturned and a year before the beginning of my unexpected seventh year I had finally accepted how this story would end _ for Hermione had said as much, just the previous night. She loved Harry and no matter what I did, the Hero always got the girl… match over.

Fate had been extraordinarily kind to me, allowing me to taste bliss with her, but only briefly – and only for a few hours, - I should be darn grateful (I said darn again … didn't I) but at that precise moment in time I also decided that I rather liked having her in my arms, lying on top of me, practically suffocating me and yet it was as close as I'd ever get to heaven on earth. - I smiled sadly at that last thought. As petite as I had always considered her, she was starting to get heavy. Besides, it was time to get up anyway.

"Hermione," I whispered softly, and nudged her side gently. She didn't even stir. Ron tried again, this time louder, and it still didn't earn me a response. Well, shucks … it looks like I have to take drastic measures then.

Knowing this was to be my last chance to do so – As the urge to find what was missing was totally gone. Ron began laying sweet little wet kisses all over her eyelids, cheeks and mouth… all the while gently moving my rock-hard manhood in and out of her faster and faster. And while this method was initially just the means to wake Hermione up, I quickly found that I was enjoying this last coupling … far more than I should. - Especially since she clamped around my meat instantly, when I began thrusting up inside her.

"Mmmm. So nice … More," she mewed.

Encouraged, I thrusted even harder and deeper, using both hands to lift up and then pull down hard, her slick vagina (that's odd: I used the term vagina instead of quim –what's with that?) … my powerful thrust causing sensations of pleasure so intense that my head fell back against the headboard. My hands held tight to Hermione's hips as I literally forced her vagina up and down on my penis (what did I just say?). I marveled at the fact that - no matter how I held her, touched her, she fit perfectly.

Hermione's moans became louder when I fondled her, and groggily, she then began to verbalize her pleasure saying in a hot whisper_ "OH f*ck that's feels so damn good". Unfortunately for me her whisper was semi-unintelligible because like I said: Hermione never swore. A moment later she opened her eyes more fully, which Ron saw had an incredibly sated expression. She smiled, still quite heavy-eyed, and then kissed Ron.

"Good morning, luv," Ron greeted happily.

"'Morning."

Her sleepy brown eyes fought to stay open, but were losing the battle since I was still lazily thrusting inside her. Then, abruptly her eyes snapped open, bright and panicked. - - Hastily, she tried to sit up, as she had seemed to realize she was lying fully atop him, however the only thing she accomplish with all that fuss was to seat herself even deeper on my ridged and upright pointing penis.

Both of us cried out at the pleasure.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "Ron? - What? - When? … Oh my God! - - Ron, I had a dream, and it was just like this, and oh my God! - - Did we 'do it' in our sleep?" - - She was babbling. Apparently, Hermione had lost her mind. Not that I blamed her; I was confident that if I didn't finish making love to her, I'd go mental.

"Yes, I think we did," I replied panting hard from the effort of fornicating (OMG ... what did I just say?) "And if you don't mind, I'd like to finish what we started." I grinned cheekily to prove my point, while pulling her hips down all the way until our pubic hairs intermingled.

"RONALD!" she shouted at me.

At the moment (mid-copulation) I really couldn't tell if she was scandalized or turned on. I suspected it was a little of both.

8

8

8

8

8

8