The following week passed with only one major event: George and Ron had moved into the flat above the shop on Thursday, July the 8th. Molly had tried to convince the boys to stay until the weekend, but since both Ron and George were working right through Saturdays and Sundays, the weekend didn't represent any kind of advantage, time-wise. Ron, seeing how antsy George felt, insisted Thursday was as good a day as any, and they took all their boxes and collected them in front of the fireplace.
The Floo Network had made the job relatively easy. Hermione, Ginny, Harry, Arthur, and Percy had helped, each of the seven of them taking one of the multiple boxes scattered through the sitting room at a time, and then taking it with them to the flat. Only twenty minutes after they had started, all boxes and bags were at their new place. Molly had been in the kitchen during this process, avoiding the family as they helped Ron and George move away. They all knew Molly was taking the situation poorly, though nobody really blamed her for it. When the time came to go to the flat, and as Molly still remained in the kitchen, all those present simply stood in their places in the sitting room, awkwardly trying to think of how to proceed and waiting for her to come say goodbye.
When their mum finally came into the sitting room, she was carrying two heavy-looking bags. She walked to the fireplace, one of her hands reaching for Floo Powder with difficulty. Then she stepped in it, turned, and, avoiding everybody's eyes, announced, "Ron and George's flat!"
The standing people had looked at each other as soon as she had disappeared among green flames and, once they had gotten their wits back, had followed one by one.
As each of them arrived to the flat, they had seen Molly opening a cupboard and pointing her wand to it.
"Congelius Curius Familiari", she had said, and white snow-like sparks had appeared from her wand, filling up the cupboard with an also white, dense looking fog that slowly disappeared. Then she proceeded to take several pots and containers from the bags to put them in the shelves. Once done, she turned to the family and said, "there, you'll have some food for when you need it."
With no need for explanations, they had all understood what that meant. She had given Ron and George her unwilling blessing, without having to put it in so many words.
George was the first one to react, walking to Molly and engulfing her in a tight hug. The rest of the people present knew he had to have said something to her, because she started weeping and nodding her head yes in a rapid motion. Ron was next, hugging her close as well, trying to put as much affection as he could in the gesture.
"I love you, Mum. Thanks... thanks for everything," he mumbled, as emotional as his mum was.
Then he had gone to hug his dad as well, just as George had stepped away. Ron tried to say something, anything at all, that could somehow tell him just how much he meant to Ron. But it was different with him, and as much as he looked for any half-adequate words, he couldn't find anything good enough.
"I love you, Ron. Take care of yourself and your brother. Goodnight, son, not goodbye."
Still unable to speak, he simply nodded his head to let him know he would.
Then they said goodnight to Arthur, Percy, and Molly-the other three would stay to help to put away a few things-but they never said goodbye.
Hermione woke up sleeping on her side, Ron's arm around her. She had been staying with him every night since moving in four days ago, even if it had been a bit inconvenient. She didn't have any of her things in Ron's room, so she had had to Apparate back and forth from her house. She didn't mind, though. It was helping Ron to get used to his new room and his new bed, and Hermione was happy to be able to comfort him that way.
She tried to lift his arm to get out of bed. He mumbled something and turned away, still sleeping, freeing her. She tip-toed outside of his bedroom and went to the bathroom. She quickly washed her face before getting out, intending to go back to Ron, but halted midway there when she saw George in the kitchen.
"Good morning," he calmly said, not letting it show if he was shocked at all at seeing her there. As far as they knew, George hadn't realised that Hermione had been staying in the flat the past few nights.
"Oh, uhm... good morning," she replied, awkwardly standing where she was.
He looked at her for a moment, to finally crack a smile. "Relax. Do you really think I didn't know this was going to happen when I asked Ron to move in with me? I don't care what happens in that bedroom, as long as it stays there."
"We're not... that's not..." she fumbled for words, flustered and indignant at the same time.
"Hermione," George interrupted again, setting the teapot to boil with a flick of his wand. "Relax, I said. I do not care."
"Fine," she said, the word coming out quick and clipped through her lips. She went back to Ron's room, her heart beating fast.
She jumped back to the bed, waking Ron up.
He looked around, confused, but smiled when he saw her. She had settled on her side facing him, and he turned to face her as well, his arm going back to rest around her waist.
"This is perfect," he commented, his voice deep with sleep, his eyes closed.
"George saw me," she said.
His face remained impassive, but he opened his eyes to look at her, eyelids heavy with sleep. "Okay," he began. "Did he say anything?"
"That he had expected it, and that he didn't care what we did in here, as soon as it stayed in here."
"That's... good, isn't it?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows, perplexed.
"But it isn't!" Hermione exclaimed in a forced whisper, tensing up. "I don't feel comfortable with him knowing what we're doing here!"
"But we haven't done anything, really!" He replied, his voice low but still able to express his bewilderment. He was quickly waking up fully, as he obviously caught on the fact she was incredibly uncomfortable and not being able to understand what the problem was.
"That's not the point," she insisted. "He thinks that we are and I don't like it."
"That's barmy, Hermione."
"Still," she pressed, her lips pursing in a mix of annoyance and embarrassment.
"Well, but what do you want me to do?" he argued, apparently giving up on trying to understand. "I can't do anything about it, can I?"
She didn't reply.
"Well, what did you think would happen?" he continued. "I mean, he was bound to realise you're staying here, sooner or later. Or are you planning to never sleep here again, now?"
"No, I will," she was forced to admit after a moment. "I just... I don't like that he's assuming... I mean, why does he have to care?"
"But he told you he doesn't," he insisted. "Hermione, I'm sure he's not thinking about it. I wouldn't, if things were reversed!"
"I suppose," she conceded, still a bit uncomfortable, even if she knew Ron was right.
They remained in silence for a few minutes, as Hermione tried to get used to the idea that, as long as any of them lived with somebody else, their privacy would have to have boundaries. And, really, why did it have to matter so much?
Feeling a bit more empowered, Hermione was just about to suggest they get up to get ready for the day when Ron spoke.
"We haven't fooled around much since I moved in here, but we did a bit last night and... well, I was wondering, were you feeling uncomfortable? I didn't think so, but I was... you know, thinking of other things... rather, not thinking at all, if you know what I mean..."
Hermione had to smile, touched that he had thought about that, even if it had been so after-the-fact.
She took a minute to think back to how she had felt the night before. "I think... well, no," she finally said, surprised at her answer. "I didn't feel uncomfortable. I suppose I was too... distracted... to think of the fact George was in the room next door. We didn't do anything we haven't done before, too, so I wasn't feeling nervous about that, either. I was just… in the moment, I think you could say."
He nodded his head in understanding. "Yeah, same here. Whenever we... touch... I just-I forget everything around us. You are all there is," he admitted.
Hermione felt her emotions shake at this, a small quake moving her heart. He had said the words so self-consciously, almost as if he expected her to reprove him for it. Instead, the words had made her smile and beam inside. How long had she wondered what it would feel like to hear him say those things, to know they were at the stage where such things were possible? She had longed to hear him talk about them that way, imploring in her mind to whomever could read her thoughts to make it happen, to keep them safe long enough to get to that point. And now they were.
It was obvious that their situation wasn't ideal; unless they could actually manage to spend significant amounts of time completely alone, all progression in their intimacy had to happen like this. It wasn't like they were flaunting their advancing explorations around. And wasn't it natural? Wasn't it their right as a couple to decide how to experience—or not—these things?
Feeling suddenly resolute, a sense of determination of no clear origin, she felt silly to worry so much about what George or anybody else thought about what they did when alone. Nobody had a right to question it or judge it or think about it at all.
"You know what, it's fine. We don't have to be responsible for what George imagines we're doing here. We've known each other for years and waited long enough to be together to care about what anybody thinks. That's only for you and me, and as long as we keep it private like that, we'll be all right."
"That's... perfect for me," Ron said, and she kissed him purposefully, making it into a promise, savoring the contact so that it would be enough to keep her going through the day.
Monday morning was crazy, not that Ron could say that any day at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was any different. This day was particularly so, though, because two new people were starting to work at the shop.
Where Roman was going to be working with George, Rajeev was going to be helping wherever needed. The two boys and Cassie, who had blended in without a problem, made the three new Wheezes employees. Ron and George, with Ginny and Hermione present, had welcomed them to the shop, given them their magenta robes as they explained what was expected from them and what to do when they had any questions. Then they had opened the store for the day, and proceeded to work all together as a way to model and supervise their work.
Once Ron had felt it was okay if he stepped away, he had tried to catch up with the administrative work needed for that day. It always frustrated him to find more and more pieces of parchment piling up in his to-do file, especially on days like this when he felt he could never do enough.
Busy as he was, he had taken the time to have lunch with Hermione. They went to Fortescue's again, and the fact that they got to sit at the same table as last time made him happy, for some reason.
"You know," he had told her at one point, "when we were here last, when we were holding hands, I really wanted to kiss you, but couldn't."
"You can, now," she had replied, reaching across the table to give him a small peck on the lips.
They returned to the shop relatively soon, as Ron had still lots to do. As they arrived to Wheezes to give Ginny her lunch break, she announced that they had received an important letter from the Ministry of Magic.
"Hey, guess what happened," she said. "Remember the ceremony Kingsley told us about that day at home?" she asked Ron, who nodded yes as he recalled the moment Ginny was referring to. "Well, it's happening. August the 7th. You got a letter, too, I'm sure it's the same one that I got."
Ron and Hermione went looking for his letter, commenting how Hermione's must have arrived to her home. Ron opened the letter and read it; Hermione came to stand by his side and read as well.
To Mr. Ronald Weasley and his guest,
We are honored to invite you to a tribute ceremony to be hosted at the location indicated below on August the 7th, 1998. We will honour the victims of the war and celebrate the end of Voldemort's threat to the Wizarding World. Drinks and appetizers will be served as guests arrive, followed by an official speech headed by Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt. Time will be allowed afterwards to socialize and commemorate together these eventful times we live in.
Please RSVP before Friday, July the 23th, by sending a note directly to the Minister's office, mentioning your and your guest's full names.
Dress Code: Formal.
Location: Corona Borealis Magical Hall
Time of Arrival: 19:30
The letter ended with Shacklebolt's signature and an official wax stamp.
"Wow," Ron said, at a loss for words. "I had totally forgotten he had mentioned this. It feels like it happened so long ago!"
"When did he talk about it?"
"Sometime in mid-May; he visited The Burrow to talk to us about many things. It was when he offered us the fast-track option to become Aurors," he explained as Hermione sat in her now-usual spot on the desk. He laid back on the wall opposing her, next to his chair, casually resting his weight against it.
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "Oh, yes, that was a long time ago. I guess the Ministry is still a slow-moving machine, after all."
"I reckon it is," Ron agreed, amused.
"Wait, August the 7th? Hmm. I was thinking that was a good date for our trip to Australia, if we can make it work."
Reminded of Hermione's idea, Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, about that, I was thinking... I'm still not completely sure I can leave England, but if I can... maybe a good plan would be that you go first and spend a few days alone with them, you know, to reconnect and, well, to prepare them for my arrival. Not too many days before; you said you wanted to stay there for a week, so maybe you can go there for three or four days and I'll join you for the last few days. I don't know, I just thought that might be a good idea. What do you think?"
"Yes, I think that's good. But it's such a long trip, Ron. Do you really want to travel all that distance, just to be there for three days?"
"Wait, are we going to travel Muggle-style?"
"I think we must. My parents may get upset if we arrive by Portkey or something like that."
"But then... does that mean I would have to fly there alone, if you're going to be there already? I don't-I don't think I can do that!"
"All right, let's think about this. Maybe... maybe I'll fly there, and we arrange for you to get there by Portkey to a safe place, where I'll be waiting for you. Then I'll take you to my parents' house, without them needing to be involved with anything magical. I think that would work, don't you?"
"Yeah, that sounds fine. Then, when it's time to come back, we'll be together. Yeah, I think that'll work."
"Good. That'll save us the cost of one ticket, too, so that's another benefit," she commented off-handedly.
"Err... Hermione?" Ron said, crazily uncomfortable, suddenly at a loss for words and having to stop talking for a moment. He shuffled one of his feet on the floor, silently cursing himself. How could he be so stupid?
Despite how much he wished he could ignore the money issue, he had to go on and talk about it. "I'm going to say that, well," he started again, "maybe because I'm not used to... I mean, 'cause I don't know much about Muggle things, right? But... I hadn't-I hadn't realised that, yeah, of course we have to pay for tickets..."
"Oh, yes, don't worry about it. I'll be paying for that. That's why I needed to check my bank statements, to make sure I can afford it."
"What? No, I'll pay for it myself. How much can it be? What's the conversion between wizard Money and Muggle money?"
"Ron... I don't think... you don't have to worry..."
"C'mon, tell me. I'm earning a wage, now; I'm sure I can afford it! What is it, ten Galleons? Fifteen? That's how much it costs to travel abroad by Portkey; you know, to cover the administrative costs..."
Hermione looked to the floor, avoiding his eyes. It had to be bad, if she couldn't look at him. He gulped, and almost not wanting to hear the answer, asked again. "Is it more than fifty Galleons, then?"
"Well... I really think you should let me pay. My parents set me up with a good savings account, and I would really love to-"
"Hermione... just tell me."
She sighed, evidently giving up at his insistence. "It's a bit more than a thousand pounds, so more like two hundred Galleons."
"Two hundred?!" Ron exclaimed, horrified first, and extremely embarrassed second.
Hermione looked up at him, and he knew she had guessed where his discomfort was coming from. He could feel the tip of his ears going red, and it was his turn to look to the floor.
"I... I can't afford that, Hermione," he finally confessed.
"Hey, but you only need a one-way ticket, the one you need to return with me. That'll be cheaper! Maybe around... hundred and twenty?"
Ron slumped against the wall, too self-conscious and uncomfortable to reply. Still, he forced himself to do so. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't think... I can't afford that, either."
"Please, Ron, why don't you let me pay for you? This was my idea, after all. This has to do with my relationship with my parents, so you're doing me a favor, really. Let me repay your favor by paying for your airplane ticket."
"Hermione..." he said again, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Oh, c'mon. We're modern, young people. Surely you're not hung up over the fact that I'm the one paying?" she insisted, trying to pass her question as a casual comment, but Ron knew her well enough that he was sure she was trying to minimize the issue for his sake.
"You know it's not about that," he argued, shaking his head from side to side, looking to the floor.
"Then what is it about?" she asked as she jumped to the floor, coming close to him. She put her hands on his crossed arms, bending her head down but looking up to him. He lifted his head up to make it easier to look at each other in the eye.
"Are you really going to make me say it?" he asked her, and hated to realise there was a hint of despair in his voice. He did not want to admit to her that he still hated the fact he didn't have enough money to pay for this kind of thing; that things that for other people were normal expenses could easily be luxuries to him.
"No, Ron. It's all right," she conceded, coming still closer to him, her hands still on his arms. "I know... I know this is a sensitive issue for you."
Ron tried to convince himself that he wasn't so obvious in how much his lack of money mattered to him, but quickly admitted that maybe he was. Then he thought that maybe he could downplay it, pretend like it wasn't as big of a deal, but thought better about that, too. In the deepest corner of his mind, he knew Hermione had always known that his family's money status had always bothered him, even if she had probably never realised that it was one of the reasons why he had doubted she could be interested in him for so long.
All those thoughts crossed Ron's mind in the blink of an eye, too fast to even allow him to decide what to do about it, so he did nothing, at the end.
"What if..." she started to question, but then appeared to change her mind. "Look. I have an idea, but it's a bit complex. Let me try to check if it's possible at all first, and then I'll tell you if we can make it work."
"I want to pay my own way, though," Ron insisted, feeling like his pride was on the line and hating himself for it.
Hermione nodded her understanding. "My idea may make that possible. At least partially... I don't know. But we'll see; I don't want to make a big deal out of this, because it shouldn't be and because I really, really want you to come to Australia with me, now. I've had enough time to imagine what it would be like, to introduce you again to my parents, and this time as my boyfriend instead of the boy from school who's my friend. I really hope I don't have to accept the fact that it can't happen. Just let me see if I can figure it out, all right?"
Ron sighed, finally nodding his agreement. "Yeah, okay," he added.
She reached up to kiss him. "Good," she said, stepping back to go back to work. Again, things had happened and they had used all of the lunch break, like usual.
Ron went up the stairs taking several steps at once, ready to call it a day. He had just returned from buying dinner in a shop in Diagon Alley and was planning to eat it on the sofa, to then proceed to organize the few boxes that were still sealed from the day they had moved in.
There weren't many things that needed to be put away anymore, but he was hoping to finish it all that night. Even if he was starting to feel more comfortable at the flat, he felt that not seeing the boxes around anymore would help him feel like the place was closer to being his home. His plan was to finish all of it before Hermione came to the flat; she hadn't slept with him the past two nights, and he was missing her in his bed already, and was hoping to convince her to stay.
He opened the door and went to the sofa, taking his packaged food out of the paper wrapping. He was in the middle of doing that when George appeared, coming out of his bedroom.
"Hey, have you eaten anything?" Ron asked him, his mouth watering in anticipation of his own meal.
"Yeah, I ate some of what Mum gave us, but look" he said. "I just found this. Fred... Fred and I started it a long time ago, and forgot about it when we went into hiding."
Ron looked at the bottle George was holding to him, amber Firewhisky sparkling in red tones up to about three quarters of the bottle. "Oh, is that the fancy one?"
"Yeah, a 1954 Single Firemalt. Fucking unbelievable, if I remember correctly. Want some?"
"Sure," Ron said. "Let's not go crazy, though. I have to do a few things before Hermione gets here."
Hermione closed the door of the storeroom securely behind her to then make her way to the flat. She went up the stairs and opened the door, fully expecting to see Ron finishing the unpacking. Instead, she was greeted by a shocking sight: both Ron and George were sitting on the sofa, drinks in their hands, and an almost-empty bottle in front of them. She stopped, frozen in her steps at the sight.
"Just look at my girlfriend," Ron said at the sight of her, as if it was part of an ongoing conversation. "Bloody beautiful, she is."
Hermione felt herself blush, both pleased and embarrassed. She remained silent as she took a step forward, closing the door behind her.
"Oh yeah, she is," George agreed. "You've got good taste, Ron."
"I fucking do," he congratulated himself, straightening up in obvious pride, his words coming out only slightly slurred. "Took me a shit-ton of years to get her to be with me, but I convinced her in the end. I have no idea how, though..." he added in evident bewilderment.
"But you know, I told your girlfriend already," George said out of the blue, in a comment that Hermione did not think was related to Ron's in any way. "You're living here now, with a room all to yourself and without the fear of having Mum come to knock on your door at an inconvenient time..." he got silent for a moment, but then continued, "yeah, that's right, keep everything to yourselves in your room, Ron, and use a silencing spell, is all I ask."
"Okay, that's enough, now," Hermione quickly interrupted, not wanting them to continue with that kind of talk. She went to them with her wand in her hand, and vanished the little Firewhisky that remained in the bottle.
"Oi! We're celebrating!" George complained, moving his glass away from Hermione, in case she thought of taking it away, as well.
Hermione was tempted to do it, but didn't. "Did you drink close to a full bottle just now?" she chided them, instead.
"We didn't!" Ron replied indignantly. "It was open when George found it. We drank... about half of it, only, I think."
"A bit more, I'd wager," George added, contemplative. "Be honest, girls care about that."
"Alright, a bit more, then," Ron quickly agreed, as if he was truly scared that Hermione had just caught him lying.
She smirked to hide a smile. "That's plenty, and that's enough. We'll clean up what's left in the boxes tomorrow, I suppose. I think you two better go to sleep now. Do you need help getting to your room, George?"
"That's frankly insulting, Mrs. Gran-Granger Weasley. I am-" George interrupted himself as he got up with effort and a slight waver, as if he had lost his balance. When he finally stood straight, he smiled with pride. "I'm perfectly capable of going to my room on my own, see?"
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, concerned as he saw him take a few slow, hesitant steps, arms stretched out as if afraid he was going to fall down.
"Yes, I am, thank you very much," he said with exaggerated, forced enunciation. "I haven't completely lost my ability to hold my liquor," he assured her. "Just worry about your boyfriend; I made sure he drank more than I did."
"M'fine!" Ron complained, as if George's words had hurt his pride. "Look," he said as he stood up, in much the same manner as George had. "Wow," he exclaimed, "didn't expect the room to move like that," Ron added, and Hermione reached to hold his arm.
"Are you sure you're fine?"
"I am, yeah," he said, taking his arm away from her hand to then interlock fingers with her. He took her to his room, walking a bit slower than usual but on his own. They went in, and Ron turned to close the door, reaching into his pocket for the Deluminator.
"I see your bed is still unmade," Hermione said as the room became illuminated, and looking at the double bed in the middle of the opposing wall. "Do you even know where your pajamas are?"
"No idea," Ron said, and Hermione nodded her head disapprovingly as she turned away from him.
"Honestly, Ron," she said as she began looking for his pajamas. She started moving his blankets around and, when that failed, she started looking in other places. "You have to be a bit more organized than this. And, really? Drinking like this on a weekday? Granted, it's not like you have a weekend right now, but-" she had begun to say, when she heard the clinking metal sounds of Ron's belt buckle. She quickly turned around, noticing that he stood with his eyes closed, shirtless. He had taken it off while she had been looking for his pajamas, dropping it on the floor next to his feet. He proceeded to undress further as Hermione assessed the situation, now unbuttoning his jeans. "What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly, slightly scared but unable to not stare.
He let his trousers drop to the floor as well, leaving him in his pants. He stepped out of his trousers carefully, opening his eyes and taking off his socks, looking around as if he wasn't almost naked in front of her, reaching up with a hand to scratch his head. "I... sorry?"
Recovering slightly and amused that Ron was absolutely unaware of the significance of the situation, she tilted her head to the side as she looked him over. "I suppose you could just sleep in your pants," she suggested, her eyes fixating in the patch of ginger hair that went down his navel and disappeared beneath his underwear. Her eyes then looked at his chest, which was as skinny as she had always expected it to be, and his shoulders, covered by a million freckles and which looked wider than she had imagined.
"Yeah, that should work," he agreed, as if amazed at her wonderful brain. He walked to her and surrounded her with his arms, bending down to kiss her. "Will you stay with me? I don't want to be by myself tonight. I know I should... shouldn't get used to us sleeping together every night, but I miss you."
Hermione took a moment to reply, feeling eager and anxious at the prospect. Seeing him with so little on him had immediately taken her mind places, inundated as it had been with a sudden surge of hormones. She had found herself wanting to kiss him all over, tasting his skin, counting each one of his freckles. It scared her to realise she was feeling so much, wanting so much; even if it had been him the one to drink that night, she felt just as intoxicated. If that happened just by the surprise of seeing him in his pants only and wondering how it would feel to explore all this newly exposed skin, she was concerned at how much more they would do if sharing a bed.
"I can, yes," she agreed, trying to shut down her brain for a moment, to let herself be a teenage girl in love. After all they had been through, didn't they deserve the right to be a little reckless? "I didn't bring anything to sleep in, though. Maybe I can sleep in your shirt, if you don't mind?"
"My shirt?" Ron repeated, looking down to the floor where he had dropped it. "Sure," he said, and turned to go get it.
She observed him bend down to the floor, and turning to her as he got up, his shirt hanging from his hand, he looked at her again as if he hadn't seen her before. "Fucking Merlin, have I told you that you're gorgeous?"
He evidently believed it; she had heard the passion and vehemence in his voice. She tried to imagine what he was seeing, but couldn't think of anything beside the fact he was still half naked in front of her, in his dimly-lit new bedroom. She saw his eyes roaming over her body, making her feel as bare as he was, despite her still being fully clothed.
As much as she tried to convince herself to do more, she hesitated. She wasn't confident and, despite coming to an agreement the other day, it did bother her that George was on the other room.
I won't think. I won't stop myself from doing what I want to do with Ron. There's nothing wrong with it, as long as we both want to do it.
Ron was still looking at her, as if he was waiting to see what she would do. She held his gaze and finally gathered her courage, ruthlessly focusing on his words and the want in his eyes, and reached to the bottom hem of her shirt, lifting it up and over her head, to finally drop it on the floor next to her.
Breathe, just breathe, she told herself. She had enough with dealing with her insecurities and fast-beating heart to add doubts to the mix. She stood still, trying to focus on the fact that Ron was almost naked in front of her, and that the thought of balancing the scales had her blood racing. She waited for his reaction, still holding his eyes.
"Holy shit," he exclaimed, though she could barely hear him over the loudness of her heartbeats.
"I think you better put a silencing spell in here, after all," she suggested, if only to make sure everything they ended up doing remained for the two of them alone.
"Sure, of course," he conceded, reaching to the dresser for his wand and quickly whispering the spell.
With a small smile, she watched him leave his wand on the dresser and turn to her again, his face full of anticipation.
"You... can get closer, if you want," she suggested, and he was holding her and kissing her in a flash.
"Bloody hell," he breathed out as he lifted his hands to her, kissing her again as he cupped her breasts and squeezed a bit harder than he ever had, his hands rough for the first time. She didn't expect it to arouse her so much, but it did-it made her feel wanted, like he couldn't get enough of her. She heard him groan after a moment, and heard herself moan in response, his fingers working on her with a hint of despair. He found her nipples, squeezing them between his fingers, causing her to gasp in surprise.
"Bloody hell," he said as he broke the kiss and dropped his head against hers. "It's almost too much."
She took a step back, her mind finally blank, her body reeling with the feeling of being so wanted, of wanting him so much. She saw in his eyes that he thought she had had enough, and was delighted to see his further shock when she reached down to unbutton her shorts, her thumbs hooking around the top to then pull them down her legs. She told her brain to shut up when it tried to tell her why she should maybe think twice of what she was doing.
"Fucking Merlin's balls," Ron whispered, absolutely unbelieving.
AN: Surprise Update! I have my driver's test tomorrow morning (wish me luck!) and then I'm meeting with a friend, which means I won't have time to post- and judging by the amount of things I have to do during the weekend, I knew that if I didn't post today I wouldn't post until Friday next week. I didn't want to do that! Not while I have buffered chapters, anyway. Paraphrasing Aragorn, "a day may come when I can't post a chapter a week, but it is not this day..."
AAAAAaaaaaaaaanyway, do you hate me for finishing the chapter where I did? lololol. Please don't. It's for reasons.
Thank you SO much to those who are still leaving reviews, and to those who have just started. It motivated me SOOO much to keep writing. I do think I'm doing better with the writer's block; I wrote a FULL PARAGRAPH this week... I do think (hope?) that the real issue, now, is time.