One-Shot: Happy Anniversary, Madame Minister
Minister for Magic Hermione Weasley was working late in her office one night. There was landmark legislation over Squib rights being held up in the legislature and she wanted to push it through and onto her desk to sign before the upcoming recess.
Pausing in the scratching of her quill, she glanced to the pair of framed photos seated on her desk. The first showed a group shot of her family of four. The beaming red heads of her daughter and son, Rose and Hugo, stared up at her. Smiling softly, Hermione tenderly stroked a finger along the image. The picture had come from last year's Christmas card, taken in the apple orchard just off the Burrow. Ron had proudly boasted how both his children had inherited their mother's beautiful smile; Hermione blushingly disagreed - now that she peered at Rosie more closely, it was plain as day that she shared the same smile as Ron.
Ron... The name of her beloved husband sent a twinge of regret through her. Today was their 22nd wedding anniversary. He had come bouncing into her office at lunch hour, radiant and ready to celebrate with her in private... and in her frazzled state, she had barked at him to leave her alone while she was frantically trying to delete harmful amendments and line items from the current Squib bill should it reach her desk, rather than go through the uncomfortable optics of vetoing an imperfect package. The moment after he had slunk out, she had hated herself for taking out her stress on him, on today of all days. She knew she would have to face the music once she dragged herself into their little flat, and intended to pull out all the stops. Her beloved husband - so steadfast and supportive over the years - deserved nothing less than a passionate round of lovemaking for taking her unfair treatment.
A short rap at the door made her glance up. "Come in," she called.
The door went ajar just a crack and her husband poked his head around the space, a tentative and hopeful smile on his face.
Seeing him, Hermione whimpered, her eyes filling with tears. Rounding her desk, she ran to him, yanked him through the door and threw her arms around him.
Immediately, she grabbed his face and mashed her lips to his in a desperate kiss, full of apology. She closed her eyes in happy relief when he did not hesitate to respond to her kiss, slipping his arms about her waist to pull her closer.
"Hmmmm... I'm so sorry... Mmm..." Hermione moaned between kisses. "I was such a witch to you..."
"Well, to be fair, love, you are a witch, magically speaking," Ron chuckled. "As to your alternate connotation of the word... I think we can put that in the past."
She drew back to peer up into his face. "Can you ever forgive me?"
He grinned that lopsided grin that could still make her stomach do flip-flops. "Of course, love." Drawing something from behind his back, he held up a bottle of fire whiskey and two glasses. "How about I pour you a drink?"
Smirking affectionately, Hermione nodded and he filled her glass. Tapping off his own, they chinked glasses.
"To us," Hermione murmured lovingly. "And a wonderful marriage. Cheers."
They both tipped their drinks back in one go, and Ron poured another.
Several rounds later, Hermione and Ron had their arms tangled about each other, their lips fused together as mouths fell open and tongues pushed through. As Ron's calloused palms dipped lower to caress Hermione's shapely bum, giving each arse cheek a firm and loving squeeze, his wife purred and shivered in delight.
"Hmmm... Ron..." Hermione panted, her brain fuzzy and her eyes hooded with lust. Her hair was mussy. She had definitely had too much to drink, and she tried to reclaim reason, even as she invitingly raised her thigh to Ron's hip and swung it about his torso. "We... we can't... not here..."
"Sure, we can," Ron smirked, pecking her on the lips again, tearing open her blouse and bra and suctioning his mouth to her right breast when it came loose. "Just ward the doors..."
Well, she had promised herself that he would get lucky, due to her horrid behavior. So, pointing her wand at the door as Ron dive-bombed her neck, she gasped, "Salvio Hexia... ooh, yes, right there... Protego Maxima..."
Still heatedly kissing, Ron bent Hermione back over her desk. Flipping them both expertly, Hermione moved quickly to straddle her husband. Dipping her head to kiss him lazily, and hiking up the hem of her long maxi dress around her hips, she nudged her panties off her hips. Undoing his trousers, she watched, pleased, as his member popped free, and she came down on it sharply.
Both husband and wife groaned on impact. She hadn't meant to so rough about it, but her body needed this. She needed to make sweet love to her husband, get in a nice fuck to bring the magic back – especially seeing as they were now both empty nesters. Placing her hands on his chest, Hermione bounced up and down sultrily on Ron's cock. Bracing her hips, Ron thrust up into her warm and wet heat mightily, and Hermione threw back her head in ecstasy. Her yips, squeaks and moans grew louder and louder.
"Mmmm... Hmmmm... Uhhhh... HUHHHH! UHHH!" Her thighs trembled around him until finally, her body locked up.
"RON!"
"'MIONE!"
The couple came as one with twin cries.
Hours later, Ron and Hermione lay naked underneath her desk, slick with sweat and tangled in each other's embrace. Smiling into each other's eyes in the afterglow of post-coital bliss, the couple kissed tenderly.
"We haven't shagged like that since we were newly married," Hermione hummed in contentment.
"You got that right," Ron chuckled. Tilting his head, he bent and kissed his wife again.
"Happy Anniversary, Madame Minister."
She beamed at him.
"Happy Anniversary, Ronald."