Author's Note: Fair warning: sexual content in this chapter! Don't read if sexy times offend you. Otherwise, read on!

Hermione spent the entire day eagerly anticipating her date with Ron. The more time that went by, the more excited she became. Finally, the clock chimed out six times, and she figured that one hour early was time enough to prepare for the date. Venturing up to Ginny's room, she stepped inside to find Ginny in her usual perch on her bed.

"Hermione, after dinner can you make yourself scarce? Harry's coming over early."

"That's fine Ginny. I'm not even coming to dinner," she mentioned casually, knowing that Ginny would inquire as to why she would not be attending dinner and feeling giddy at the excuse to talk about her date with Ron.

Ginny took the bait. "What? Why?"

"Ron and I have a date," Hermione said, barely able to contain her smile.

"Oh! How exciting! What are you two doing?"

"Well...I'm not exactly sure. But, as long as we're together I know it will be great," she replied dreamily.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Once again with the googly eyes over my brother, Hermione. Really, will this behavior ever cease?"

"I don't think so, Gin," Hermione answered honestly.

Ginny sighed. "Very well. Can I help you get ready, at least?"

Hermione nodded. "That's what I was hoping you would help me with."

Ginny nodded her head seriously. "You already look gorgeous, so we won't have to do much. How about you change into a longer dress and brush your hair out again? I'll add a little more makeup. Oh, and wear another set of your lingerie!"

An hour later, Hermione had changed into a floor length dress that Ginny had in the back of her closet with a matching bra and knickers set underneath it, coupled with a pair of Ginny's high heels. Her hair had been styled neatly down her back, and Ginny had done her makeup beautifully. The entire outfit was much more glamorous an ensemble than Hermione would ever consider wearing, but Ginny insisted that she looked stunning. She took a vial of her potion and drank it as well, remembering that she would not be coming back to the room.

She took off down the stairs, becoming more nervous with each step. What if the way she was dressed did not comply with what Ron had planned? Her nerves faded quickly when she saw Ron standing in the sitting room dressed nicely in a muggle button up shirt with a collar and trousers. He was holding a bouquet of flowers and his eyes lit up when he saw her. He rushed toward her and held out his arm for her to take, while simultaneously thrusting the flowers into her other hand.

"You look amazing," he whispered in her ear, although they were the only two people in the room.

"Thanks. Where did you get the muggle clothes?" She whispered back.

"Harry lent them to me and I enlarged them. I thought it would be fun to have a muggle date," he answered, leading her out the back door and through the yard.

"Oh, Ron! How wonderful! Only, are we going out in public?" They were edging closer to the boundary line and the thought of being out in public for a long period of time in a muggle restaurant worried her. If something happened, she didn't want to put muggles in danger.

"No. If it's alright, I thought we would just stay here." He pointed ahead of them, and she looked where he was directing her gaze. Just ahead of them, underneath the big tree that signaled the ward boundary line, sat a big blanket spread out with a picnic basket next to it.

The sight made her tear up. It reminded her of all of those picnics spent with her parents in the Forest of Dean. She felt more happiness than sadness, though. Any connection with her parents right now was something she reveled in. How could Ron have chosen something so perfect?

Ron was still puttering on, continuing to talk. "I asked Harry about good ideas for a muggle date and he thought you would like this. I think it's kind of barmy to put everything in a basket when you could just summon it, but he said it was an important part of-"

Ron cut himself off when he turned and saw the tears in her eyes. "What's wrong? Do you not like it?"

"No! I love it Ron! It's perfect!" She answered, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him as tightly as she could.

"Then why the bloody hell are you crying?"

"That's how much I love it," she explained. Ron looked at her like he still did not understand. "Trust me, it's perfect," she assured him.

He grinned at her. "Well, brilliant. Let me escort you to your seat."

She nodded and took his arm again. He sat her down gently at one end of the blanket, then sat down opposite from her.

"What is on the menu for tonight?" She asked.

"Tonight, we'll be having sandwiches and butterbeer," Ron answered. "Mum helped me make them," he added sheepishly.

"I should hope so. I don't know if I would trust anything that you made on your own," she joked.

"Oi! I'm not that helpless!" She shot him a look of disbelief. "Okay, maybe I'm a little helpless," he admitted as he pulled out plates and sandwiches, then tossed her a butterbeer. "I filled this thing to the brim. I still haven't been able to master that undetectable extension charm. I don't know how you do it, Hermione. I tried it with this basket and lost the first batch of sandwiches."

"I can teach you," she offered, reaching for the basket.

"Later, love," Ron said. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Now that you mention it, I am," she agreed. Sometimes, she didn't even register her hunger. All of those months coping with starvation allowed for her to easily ignore a slight emptiness in her stomach when she had gone for days without food before.

She picked up her sandwich and bit into it, and Ron followed her lead by eagerly doing the same. After sitting with Ron during many meals in the Great Hall, Hermione knew to expect silence for the next ten to twenty minutes. Ron loved to concentrate on his food when he ate and wasn't much for talking.

She took the time to think quietly to herself. Her thoughts turned once again to her parents, and the Australia mission. The more she thought about it, the more worried she became. Was it stupid to go off on another dangerous mission when they had so recently come back from the last one and had only just gotten away with their lives? She wasn't sure.

"I have one more surprise," Ron said, now apparently done eating his sandwich and interrupting her thoughts. He reached into the basket and pulled out his radio. "Would you like to dance with me?" He asked, turning the dial and grinning at her when a slow song began to melodiously come out of the speakers.

"Of course I would," she answered, excited at the prospect of dancing a slow dance with Ron. The only other time they had danced together had been to a fast paced song at the wedding last summer, in which Ron had kept a safe distance between the two of them. She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck, and his hands immediately went around her waist. They swayed together on the spot, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Remember the last time we did this?" Ron asked softly in her ear.

"I don't recall us ever dancing like this before."

"At the wedding, remember?"

"This is a bit different, don't you think?" She asked, pressing her entire body up against his. She felt him nod against her neck.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," Ron said quietly.

"Me too," she agreed.

Dusk turned to night, but somehow the darkness made everything even more beautiful. The dimness of the nightfall made her experience a kind of serenity that she couldn't recall ever feeling before. She marveled at how one with nature you could feel at the burrow. There were no muggle street lights; the only luminescence came from the moon and the many stars above their heads. The song ended, but they continued to sway silently on the spot. Finally, Ron led her back toward the the blanket, signaling for her to sit back down.

"I couldn't figure out how to do those blue flames as well as you make them, but I brought some jars," Ron said, pulling few jars out of the basket and setting them down gently on the blanket.

She smiled at him and made some of her blue flames, sending them into the jars and closing the lids with a wave of her wand.

"Brilliant," he muttered.

"Ron, do you think we're being stupid?"

Ron adopted a horrified expression on his face. "What? Why?" He asked, seeming panicked.

"Going to Australia? I know we've traveled before, but what if we just got lucky last time? Something could go wrong. I can't possibly plan for everything, even though I try…"

Ron looked relieved. "Oh! I thought you meant-" he stopped short, cutting himself off. "But no, I don't think we're being stupid. I think this is something you need to do and I want to come with you."

She furrowed her brow, confused as to what he had initially been talking about. Then, it dawned on her. "Did you think I was talking about our relationship?"

Ron looked sheepish. "Er, yeah."

"Ron! How could you think that?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It's just that sometimes I wonder why you're with me. I keep thinking maybe you'll come to your senses and chuck me."

She grabbed his shoulders and made him look into her eyes. "Ron, I never want to end things with you. You have to stop thinking so badly about yourself."

He looked down at the ground. "I know," he said quietly. Then, he looked back up into her eyes. "But you do too. You're too hard on yourself. You always have been."

She wanted to argue with him, but at the last second just sighed and nodded. "Honestly, Ron, I've thought that maybe you'll come to your senses and chuck me."

"What!?" Ron asked, sounding shocked. "Why would I chuck you?"

"You know why," she said, thinking about her mental problems.

"Hermione, nothing could happen that would make me want to end things with you. I can't be without you. Not now. Not after everything we've been through." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

"I can't be without you either. You're my best friend, you know," she said sincerely.

"You're mine, too," he replied.

She thought that maybe those years of friendship spent in uncertainty as to whether or not their relationship would progress to something more were worth it. They both knew the qualities each other possessed that made them a good friend. Now, the exciting part was finding out about the romantic side as well.

Ron grabbed two rocks and conjured them into pillows, not trying to hide the proud expression on his face as he did so. He then grabbed her hand and pulled her down with him until they were laying on their backs, gazing up at the stars. Their hands were still intertwined, and she began to lazily trace a pattern on the back of his hand with her thumb.

"Thanks for taking me out tonight. I had a great time," she said, trying to act how she imagined one would act at the end of a date.

Ron caught on and played along. "Sure thing. Can I kiss you goodnight?"

"Yes," she said quickly.

Even in the dim blue light, she could see him grin. He turned only his head to the side, and she followed his lead by turning her head and touching her lips to his. It started out gently; just soft pecking. Very quickly, it turned to something much more as they both turned onto their sides and continued to kiss more deeply and passionately. The fire between the two of them was undeniable; Hermione felt as though every inch of her body that was touching Ron's flowed with electricity. How much of this was just pure teenage lust, and how much could be attributed to the fact that she and Ron had to be meant for each other? Surely, two people had never loved each other as much as they did. This passion between them had to be something knew they were discovering that was all their own.

Ron was on top of her now, grinding his pelvis into hers. She responded back enthusiastically and aggressively thrust her tongue into his mouth. He moaned, and she moaned back. Soon, the two of them were rolling around on the blanket, both of them being far more vocal than they ever had before. There was a sense of seclusion that came with being under the darkness of night, far away from the house. Both of them seemed to be feeling it, allowing for them to release their inhibitions much more than they ever had.

Ron thrust against her, hard, and she groaned. "Merlin, Ron. That feels good."

"Yeah? You like that?" He asked, his voice filled with lust.

She merely nodded against his shoulder. "Let's go back up to your room," she said. As much fun as their one trist up against the tree had been, she desired to be more comfortable for what she planned on doing.

"Okay, yeah," he responded. He grabbed his wand, but a second later placed it back down on the blanket. "I don't think I'm in any shape to apparate right now," he added sheepishly, glancing down at the bulge in his trousers.

"Neither am I," she admitted, and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Blimey, Hermione. You not being able to apparate?"

"What can I say? There's this wizard who insists on working me into a lust-filled frenzy every time we're together."

Ron looked rather proud of himself, but nevertheless played along "Really? Do I know the bloke?"

"Well, I can tell you this: he's very handsome, and tall, and brave. He can also be very sweet when he wants to be."

"Sounds like a prick."

"He's not. Most of the time."

Her comment caused Ron to smile. However, he gave up on their little game and broke character. "Let's go, Hermione. I don't know how much more of this I can take." The look on his face was urgent, as if he needed to get her into his bed as quickly as possible. She nodded in agreement, and jumped up very suddenly, waving her wand to transfigure the rocks back to their former selves and stash all of their belongings back into the basket. Ron only looked surprised at her quick magic for a second, then merely grinned at her.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" She asked, holding her hand out to him.

He jumped up quickly, grabbing the picnic basket with one hand and her hand with the other, then all but yanked her toward the house. They took off running back to the burrow like a couple of fools, with her giggling the entire way.

It was a miracle that they managed to make it past the sitting room and up the many flights of stairs without bumping into anyone. Once they reached Ron's doorway, he nudged her inside and shut the door quickly. Then, he grabbed her hand again and led her toward his bed, pushing her onto it and laying his entire body down on top of hers. He stopped then, breathing heavily and lifting his head up to look into her eyes.

"Fuck, Hermione," he breathed, almost sounding like he was in pain.

"What's wrong, Ron?" She asked, alarmed.

"Nothing. It almost hurts to look at you; you're so beautiful."

Coming from any other person, she might have rolled her eyes at the cheesiness of that comment. But this was Ron, and she could tell that he was being sincere. She responded by leaning up from her position underneath him to touch her lips to his.

His response was swift, as he immediately deepened the kiss and ran his fingers through her hair, wrapping his arms around her and effortlessly lifting her to bring her head on top of a pillow. He was so strong. Everything about him turned her on in a way that she could have never imagined: the broadness of his shoulders, the deep calmness of his voice, his strong urge to protect her. She had the want-no, the need- to make him feel as turned on in return.

Without saying anything, she gently tapped his shoulder, indicating that she want to get on top. He happily obliged, and once she was on top of him she went straight for his belt buckle. She felt him grin against her mouth as he began to thrust his hips even more wildly against her hands.

"Ron, I won't be able to unbuckle it if you keep squirming," she giggled.

"Oh, right," he replied, going red.

She continued with her task, which was much easier now that Ron had gone still. The belt came undone, then the button and zipper, and very quickly she had him out of his boxers and in her hand. Not feeling as nervous as she had been the other times they had done this, she stroked him with what she had come to determine was the grip and speed that he most prefered. She was awarded when he moaned and threw an arm across his eyes, as if the sight of her touching him was too much for him to bare. Wondering if he could handle what she had planned, she asked, "Is it okay if I…?" then made a move to bring her mouth closer to him.

He looked at her like she had just inquired whether or not he liked quidditch, or chocolate frogs, or chess. "Are you serious!? Of course it's okay!"

She nodded, about to take him into her mouth when she remembered what else he had liked the last time she did this. Without missing a beat, she pulled her dress over her head and then unhooked her bra, pulling it off and dropping it somewhere on the floor. Ron's eyes bugged out of his head, but quickly closed in pleasure as she took him into her mouth, bobbing up and down. He opened his eyes and looked at her in apparent awe, and she grinned to the best of her ability.

"You like this, don't you?"

She realized that he had asked her that question. He was suggesting that she liked doing this to him. She pondered the question, realizing that she did like it. She liked seeing him lose control like this and knowing that she was the one who had caused it. She liked knowing that she was the only girl who had ever been with him this intimately. She loved seeing proof of his attraction to her, and the look of pure bliss on his face. There was also a part of her that loved how primal this was; how overtly sexual. Up until now, she hadn't the time for sexual experiences, what with trying to save the world taking up most of her time. It was becoming more and more apparent to her that Ron loved seeing the sexual side of her. During her thought process, Ron had begun to moan and writhe, and she could tell that he was about to climax. A few seconds later, he did, and she quickly swallowed.

"Holy fuck, Hermione," Ron breathed. She crawled back up toward him and snuggled against his chest.

"Like that, did you?" She asked.

"That was bloody fantastic," Ron answered.

"You know what you could do for me?" She asked, feeling unlike herself.

"Yeah?" Ron breathed.

"Tell me more about what you find attractive about me." His hand automatically went to her hair.

Hermione giggled. He was going for her hair again. She was quickly beginning to realize that there were certain parts of her that Ron automatically gravitated to. She wondered if he had envisioned touching these parts of her for a long time, and now that he had permission to due so he was relishing in it.

"What's so funny?" He asked absently.

"My hair, Ron. You're touching my hair again."

"It's fucking gorgeous, love. I can't help it."

"Have you always thought so?"

"Of course! I've wanted to touch you like this for so long, Hermione." So, she had been right.

"Oh really? What did you think about doing if you ever got the opportunity?"

"Well… just this. You know, running my fingers through it." His answer was not entirely convincing.

"Just this? Nothing a bit more… naughty?"

She heard Ron audibly gulp. "What do you mean, Hermione?"

"I think you know what I mean, Ron. Maybe you could… tell me?" She asked, grabbing his hand and trailing it under the waistband of her knickers. She didn't know where this sudden bout of wantonness was coming from.

"Hermione… I don't want you to think I'm some sort of pervert…"

"I won't, Ron! I want to hear about how you think of me… sexually."

"Alright," Ron agreed, sliding his hand under her knickers and touching her bare skin. "Okay, yeah. If you're sure."

"Go ahead," she encouraged, already writhing slightly against him.

"Well, I'd think about all of that gorgeous hair you have, and how great it would look spread all around you as you laid under me."

"Why would I be under you?" She teased.

He growled, and something in him seemed to snap. When he spoke again, his voice had adopted a much deeper tone. "Because, Hermione, I'd be fucking you."

"I see. And what would happen next?" She panted, almost at her climax already as she writhed against him. His dirty mouth did wonders for her libido.

"Then, I'd roll over and you'd be on top, sliding up and down on me with all that beautiful hair falling around the two of us like a waterfall." She was picturing his description in her mind, and it allowed her to climax; hard. She tried to muffle her cries by grabbing onto him and biting his shoulder, remembering at the last second that they hadn't silenced the room. Ron rubbed her back gently and kissed her forehead.

"That was amazing, Ron," she breathed. She felt him grin against her head.

She allowed for a few minutes to pass by before she spoke again. "Ron? Can I borrow your clothes again?"

"Sure thing," he answered, jumping up and rummaging in his drawer for a t-shirt. He tossed one to her, and she pulled it on.

"Come here," she said, holding out her arms and motioning for him to join her back on his bed.

He laid back down and she put her head against his heart, smiling when she heart the fast and steady beat.