EXPLICIT SEX SCENE AHEAD.

Well, the fish swam out of the ocean,
And grew legs and they started walking.
And the apes climbed down from the trees,
And grew tall and they started talking.

And the stars fell out of the sky,
And the tears rolled into the ocean,
And now I'm looking for a reason why,
You even set my world into motion.

'Cause if you're not really here,
Then the stars don't even matter.
Now I'm filled to the top with fear,
But it's all just a bunch of matter.

'Cause if you're not really here,
Then I don't want to be either.
I wanna be next to you.

Chapter 10

Ginny approached Hermione slowly, as she tended to be easily frightened when wrapped up in a book. The fireplace was crackling and it was strangely cold for a summer evening. Ron was asleep in her lap and she was unconsciously petting through his hair, occasionally twirling a lock of his red hair. She was warm under a blanket, her legs curled up next to her and on the arm of the couch that she was seated next to, Crookshanks was curled up and sleeping. The scene was so peaceful and cozy that Ginny could swear she heard music playing. She cleared her throat gently to get the brunette's attention and succeeded.

"Oh, yes?" She whispered, turning over the back of the couch to meet Ginny's stare.

"Uhm, did Harry say when he'd be back tonight?"

Hermione's mouth slanted in disappointment, "Sorry, no. He's been so strange lately. Sleeping so late and hardly around. I think it's depressing Ron. He wants to be coddled until he leaves for work,"

Ginny nodded in understanding but was feeling a spike of anger in her gut. She wasn't entirely sympathetic for Ron as she left the room to go to bed. She was being consumed with self pity, not that she was aware of it. She kept thinking that Harry should be wanting to coddle her – his fiancée! She wanted him to lust after her, to pine for her, but she felt entirely left out to dry. He barely gave her second glances and was always hesitant to reciprocate kisses or hugs or holding hands. Seeing as Ron had not initiated any sex life with Hermione, yet, Ginny could sigh and believe that perhaps Harry was, in fact, still too war-headed to feel lustful. How long does it take an eighteen year old boy to become lustful, though? She doubted his attractions, but rather than sad, it only angered her. She was doing all she could to draw his eyes; tiny jean shorts, loose-fitting tops and sometimes even insinuating or out-right telling him to come ravish her at night. Nothing seemed to work, though.

As she lay in bed, her feminine and small hands curled into fists and her brows turned inward. The house was quiet and everyone was minding their own privacy, and any normal boy would be busting just to grope and kiss. In the Weasley house, quiet nights were not common and were usually celebrated, intimately and privately. She knew that Fred and George were always up to something strange down the hall on those rare nights. Probably plotting horrid pranks and such, but they could always be heard giggling. Percy would be up to studies, of course. Ginny didn't remember Bill or Charlie's habits exactly, but when they visited, if they caught a night like that, they tended to sit out on the porch and watch stars and drink into the wee hours. Ron cuddled up on Hermione's lap in the livingroom, and she – she was so aloof! She was so indifferent! Completely interested in her book, just twirling Ron's hair and waiting for him to say that he wants her. She was far more patient than Ginny was. Ginny was known to be hot headed and had a quick, Irish temper. She felt her patience for Harry slowly slipping away, and what was growing nearer was a feeling of resentment born from confusion.

She fell asleep to a dreamless night.

"Ron," Hermione nudged lightly.

She smiled down at him as his eyes very reluctantly opened. He smiled back at her as he came back to his senses. His cheeks were rosy and seemed like they had extra freckles. He was somehow even cuter than when he had fallen asleep. The fire was dwindling and cracking about, but out the window, the sky was black and star-filled.

"It's about one in the morning. We should go to bed,"

He didn't seem to agree, because the next moment he was kissing her. She melted into his touch and affection and felt the now familiar sensation of her entire body tingling at once. They maneuvered themselves eventually, so that Hermione was lying beneath Ron and the red hair falling from the top of his head twined with her thick bangs. She pressed her chest against him by arching her back just slightly and she was rewarded with a tired moan of approval. The sound was making her head swim – she wanted more of it and her body was suddenly ticklish and sensitive with the daydreams of Ron's body and abilities. He was moving against her slightly, just enough to elicit notice. She wormed her body gently against his in turn and she heard him breathe in sharply through his nose. It was a good noise. A nervous but excited noise. His kisses very immediately became more starved and his tongue delve deeper. She responded encouragingly and she soon felt his strong, callused hand leaving a trail of heat down her side, atop her stomach and his fingers slipped underneath her pajama pants. She was not in control when she broke their kiss and gasped loudly, though he had not yet touched her.

He retracted his hand instantly and she wanted to apologize. They were both staring into shocked eyes and Ron stammered,

"I-I'm sorry, Mione, if you don't want – "

"No! That's not – no, it's just new, so I just – I mean, I haven't – I just… "

They fell into a comfortable quiet, caught up in their gaze and their mutual nervousness finally showing. She watched his freckled neck swallow a gulp and he asked her, kindly and gently,

"Hermione, is it okay if I touch you?"

She blushed and felt a magic she had never read about or heard of. It was as if the request was a secret spell only Ron had ever known, and if said in that so specific tone, under the specific circumstances, it could unwind her from the inside. Instead of being the strong and confident woman oozing sexuality that she imagined herself to be in her dreams, his words left her a puddle of admiration. She so desperately wanted him to, she could hardly get a response out at all. She just nodded quickly, her eyes sliding halfway closed. He smiled graciously, leaning down to her as his fingers found their place again, by the waist band of her cotton and oversized pants. She gasped again, but it was much more gentle and assuring. His face disappeared next to her, their cheeks brushing and she closed her eyes as he murmured to her,

"Don't worry. You'll like it, and if you somehow don't, you tell me to stop. Okay?"

She nodded again, and when she did, his hand slid lower and into her underwear. She always imagined being so prepared for the moment they began their more intimate interactions. She always imagined wearing something revealing and sexy underneath ordinary clothes, to surprise him. But rather than a lacy piece, she was wearing light blue cotton panties and was rather embarrassed about it. She couldn't dwell on the embarrassment for long, because she soon felt his middle finger grazing across her outer lips. Her teeth came out to bite her bottom lip, but they had no steady grip and her lip simply popped out from beneath her pearly whites, wet and rosy with a sudden blood rush. She was shaking slightly, but she could tell that Ron was working very hard to keep steady too, and that comforted her. He parted her outer lips and slid his finger up and down. She made a small mewl and his heart pace doubled. He nuzzled his head into the crook of her warm neck and kissed her. Her fingers curled around his upper arms and she admired his tough strength while wondering how a single, simple touch could create such wild sensations. She concluded that it was not the actions alone, but the person who made them. Her sensitivity was growing and his finger was becoming slicker as the hot moments passed. He was making small circles on her inner lips, sliding up and down and she was reduced to a pile of quivers and gasps. The tip of his middle finger worked into the upper hood of her lips and found her clitoris. Her nails dug into his arms, but didn't seem to faze him. His full lips were against her ear, whispering,

"Does that feel good?"

She felt her face turning red and the ends of her fingers and toes turning numb. She nodded again, and used every sane fiber left in her body to form the word, "Yes,"

She felt Ron's smile and waves of tingles ran along her sides and spine. He replied, "Good," and began rubbing again. She squirmed involuntarily under him, sewing her lips shut to keep from making noise, as she couldn't tell if she would be able to control the volume of her voice or not. Slippery wet by then, Ron's finger ran down her again, and then slid into her. Her hands jumped to his neck and he rose his face over hers. He searched her eyes for hesitance or disturbance, and when he only found shocked pleasure, he smiled and leaned down to kiss her. She kissed him as sweetly as she could, trying to illustrate the incredulous pleasure, trying to thank him and praise him and beg him to not stop all at once. His mind was far too foggy to receive all of those messages, but the one he could hear loud and clear was 'I like this'. So, he wouldn't stop for anything. He kept his lips on hers to help keep her quiet as his finger slid in and out of her, twirled experimentally and he would occasionally remove the finger completely to rub her clitoris again. She was caught off guard when he gripped her sides, broke their kiss and sat her upright. He was on the floor, in front of her, dragging her pajamas off. He took a long look in her eyes and she saw that mischievous twinkle that was so often in the twins' eyes. His hands gripped her ankles and pulled her down, so that she was slumped against the couch.

She wanted to be humiliated that she was bare before him and exposed, but she wasn't. In fact, she felt safe and quiet comfortable in her skin. His palms propped up her thighs and helped hold them a bit apart. He leaned forward, weight on his knees and his mouth readily opened against her lips. She gripped the cushions of the couch and bit her lips closed. Her eyes were tightly shut and head tilted back, but she did shoot forward when his tongue rubbed the inner hood of her lips and pet her clit. Her hands flew to his hair and he moaned against her in approval. She felt a growing sensitivity everywhere; her legs were shaking, her hands could not uncurl, her heart was racing and everything felt unwrapped and revealed. She felt a finger slide into her again while the rest of her vulva was covered with a hot, wet tongue. While he moved his finger in and out, slowly at first, his tongue slid up and down, wiggling against her clit and she couldn't help thrashing. Her toes were curling in and out and she felt a sudden growth of pleasure in abdomen. Whatever was happening, it felt fantastic and she was losing any feelings of shame. His finger began smacking harder against her, and the flesh meeting flesh made a wet noise, but it only turned Hermione on more. She didn't know that it was driving Ron entirely insane; it was more than being turned on for him. He was fighting every single animal instinct to throw her down and shove himself into her. He knew he would face that kind of desire, and he had a ready mind. He would not force anything upon her. Didn't mean he didn't want to be inside her; he wanted her to want it too. He tried to concentrate on her pleasure rather than the desire for more of his own. Patience was not one of his finely tuned skills, but he certainly was trying.

Her grip in his hair tightened and she made a soft moan and whispered, "Ron,"

He smiled against her, but wouldn't stop. She threw her head back, opening her eyes and looking down to him. She wondered when she had started to sweat and if she smelled; she found again, that if she did, she didn't care.

"Ron," She moaned again; a sudden gasp came from her and she breathed out again, "Ron!"

His sensory assault on her only intensified and waves began to wash over her. She could feel that peak of pleasure coming on, the one that she knew she had read about and heard about. It was far stronger than she knew it could be and bliss enveloped her rather suddenly. Her legs involuntarily wrapped around his head, her back arched and she felt warm tears fall down her cheeks. She felt dazed and overcome with euphoria. She felt a few jolts of the waves, until it slowly calmed and she was almost uncomfortably sensitive everywhere. Her legs slacked, twitching a bit and her whole body relaxed in a way she had never felt it relax before.

She felt chills up her spine and her sides and arms. It made her giggle a little and she met Ron's eyes as he sat on his heels. He was smirking at her and his eyes sparkled with delight. She smiled to him and asked,

"Where did you learn that?"

Ron shrugged and replied, "I like reading too, Mione. Just not what you read,"

She giggled again and let herself fall onto him. She kissed him lovingly, not minding the tangy taste of herself on him. She found she loved the sensation of the warm air on her nude skin and she loved the sensation of Ron's knee, through his jeans, between her legs. Hermione didn't know how far she was willing to take the ride she was on, but the decision was made for the both of them when they heard the front door of the Burrow unlock and open. The scramble for her clothes a touch embarrassing, but the panic was much more prevalent. Ron and she traded a knowing and lustful look, and upon a glance, Hermione was able to see the physical effect that pleasuring her had given him. His jeans were loose, but not loose enough. She giggled and they waited for whoever was home, to pass them on their way to their bedroom.

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