Well, here is another R/Hr 'short' story. It was supposed to be a one-shot when the idea came to me, but, as usual, I couldn't keep it short, and just the building up became increasingly longer. So, in the end, it has three chapters, but will be published entirely this week. I hope you like it.
You'll find some very unrealistic sex here, but well, this is porn, and you all should know porn is not real.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1
The Wrong Drawer
"Mum was right, we should have stayed at home and take a walk later," Hermione told Ron as they made their way back to her house. "Sorry, Ron, usually it isn't this hot here," she apologised.
"Usually it isn't this hot anywhere in the country," Ron pointed out. "But don't worry about me, I'm all right. Thirsty, though," he added gently. Yes, it was too hot, and, being a ginger boy with skin as white as milk, he surely was going to get a sunburn, but — how could he say no to Hermione? He barely could believe it when she had written him to invite him to spend a couple of weeks at her house, especially taking into account that they would be alone. Harry had told them at the end of the year that Sirius would take him on a three week holiday across the world and, though he had said both Ron and Hermione would be more than welcome to accompany them, they knew that Harry wanted to spend some time alone with his godfather.
So, when he had received Hermione's letter he had had to read it twice to process it. Two weeks at Hermione's house! Two. Fucking. Weeks. At. Hermione's. House. Fuck, it sounded so fantastic! Just after finishing reading the letter, his imaginaton had run wild with possibilities and possible secret meanings. After all, wasn't it convenient that she had sent this invitation when Harry was still abroad, so they would be alone? She could have waited 'till Harry was back, but she hadn't. Fuck, just the thought that Hermione might want to spend time just with him and him alone had made his body tingle with anticipation. Of course, being Ron the way he was, that optimism didn't last long, and, once he had forced his mind to be realistic, he had seen things in another light: this was just Hermione being the good friend she was, and repaying for all the time she had spent at The Burrow, not a convoluted plan to get closer to him. The reason she had invited him now and not later was surely because, when Harry came back, they would spent the remaining holidays at The Burrow, like usual.
But despite the efforts of his insecure self, recently he had dared to believe — not just dream — that Hermione might like him as more than a friend. For starters, he seemed a bit more relaxed around him, laughing more and having more fun, even being a bit more touchy, and they hadn't had a row — a real row, not they usual bickering — in a long, very long time. However, in the end, he always ended up dismissing such thoughts as fantasies of his imagination.
Thinking that Hermione might fancy him was a wonderful dream, the best possible one, but that kind of hope could end up in severe disappointment. After all, he was just Ron Weasley: tall, pale, freckled, with a nose too long, feet too big, lazy, rude ...
Yes, he was aware that he also had his good points, of course. After all, at the beginning of the school year, Lavender Brown, one of the hottest girls at Hogwarts, had let him know, rather clearly, that she liked him, and they had even gone out for a couple of months before Christmas. So yeah, it was not the he was unfanciable, but well, anyone with a brain could tell that Hermione was in another league: kind, caring, responsible, smart beyond measure and looking more beautiful and sexier every day.
But, even if just as her best friend, the truth was that he was here, walking along the streets of Bedford with her, in one of the hottest and sunnier days he could remember in England. He had arrived three days ago and, so far, it had been fantastic. Her parents were really nice and the time with Hermione had been the best of their lives. She really seemed to be enjoying having him there and was always smiling at him and joking. They played Muggle games, went out for dinner with her parents, watched films, lay about in the backyard talking and drinking those strange but delicious Muggle beverages ...
Summarising it, they were having one of the most wonderful times together since they had become friends. Fuck, she had mentioned homework just once!
"Look, Ron," she said suddenly, taking him out of his reverie. He turned his head towards their right, where she was pointing. Along the road they were walking on ran a park full of people, especially parents with their kids enjoying the summer afternoon. Being in the suburbs of the town, it was rather large, alternating zones with lots of trees with ample meadows between them. There even was a big lake with boats and everything.
"Nice," he commented, nodding, though not understanding what she wanted him to see. It wasn't as if he hadn't ever seen Muggles in a park.
"This is Priory Country Park. I used to come here with my parents before I went to Hogwarts. We used to play together when I was very little, and, in later years, we would bring food in sunny days and have a picnic; afterwards we would extend some blankets and would read under the trees," she explained with a dreamy, happy look on her face, and he couldn't help but smile at her.
"Well, it looks like a good place for children," he pointed out.
At this, Hermione looked at him, her dreamy, innocent smile turning into a conspiratorial one. "Well, normally it is ... but you see, with all those trees and secluded places, lots of young couples come here to have sex," she told him, lowering her voice as if she was telling him a secret.
Ron almost choked on his own saliva the moment his brain processed her words.
"W-What!?" he asked, surprised not just because of what she had said (Muggles had sex outside!?) but because it was about sex. Hermione Granger, the star of all his teenage fantasies, was talking about sex. Never, in all their years of friendship, had she done such a thing.
Hermione looked at him and giggled at his reaction. "Are you fine, Ron?"
"Yeah, yeah," he hurried to say, nodding vehemently. "I just — I mean — outside?"
"Yes," affirmed Hermione, a mischievous smile on her face. "If they can't find some privacy anywhere else ..." she trailed off, shrugging.
Holy fuck, Ron thought. He couldn't help but glance at the park every few steps as they continued their path, imagining people having sex there. And, as an immediate consequence, Hermione and him having sex there.
Bloody fucking fuck ...
"Still shocked?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.
"Yeah," nodded Ron, trying with all his might not to show what he was thinking about. If she knew he was visualising himself taking her hard against a tree she wouldn't talk to him ever again.
"But — fuck, can't they go to a more private place?" he asked, trying to keep his lewd thoughts away.
Hermione shrugged. "Well, I suppose they could, but I imagine that, besides the sex in itself, it is — well, exciting, doing it where you can be caught."
Ron stared at her open-mouthed. Hermione Granger found public sex exciting? Wait a moment! Had she —? No, she couldn't have, could she? Well, she had got very attractive, of course, but she hadn't been going out with anyone, at least since whichever she had had with Krum had ended, and she was barely fifteen by then. And after his break up with Lavender they had been rather close, so he would know if she had, wouldn't he?
Yeah, because she would tell you that, a voice told him. As likely as you telling her such a thing.
"You have never thought about something like that before?" she dared to ask, clearly amused by his expression. "Not one of your fantasies, Ronald?"
"Hermione!"
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just — just — well, we've never —" he stammered. He took a deep a breath to compose himself and then tried to explain himself. "What I'm trying to say is that, it's odd, talking about this with you. I mean, we've never talked about — well, sex, before."
"I know," she said. "But, we're best friends, aren't we?"
"Yeah."
"So we can talk about anything."
"I suppose," he conceded.
"So ..." she started, her eyes fixed on the road in front of them, "Lavender and you ...?" she trailed off, turning her head to watch him. Ron returned her look. Was it his imagination, or she was afraid as curious about his answer.
"NO, no," he responded after a couple of seconds. "Never."
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "You never had sex in a public place?" she asked with a smile, though there was a hint of nervousness in her eyes.
"I've never had sex, Hermione," he replied in a low voice, as if he was ashamed of that fact. Not that he was, at least about not having had done it with Lavender.
"Oh," she said, nodding, and he could tell she seemed pleased by his answer. "I wasn't sure; you two — well, you were rather enthusiastic when you snogged," she commented, blushing a little.
"Yeah, I know," he said and scratched the back of his head, his body growing hotter and feeling a bit embarrassed. "But we never — not that."
She nodded.
"What about you?" he asked then before he lost his nerve.
"Of course not," she responded. "You know I haven't gone out with anyone, Ron."
"Well, what about Krum? He was eighteen ..."
"Just a few kisses, maybe a bit of snogging, though nothing like what you did."
"Oh," he said, not knowing whether to feel relieved or disappointed. "You used to say you two were only pen pals," he added, not able to completely hide the accusation in his voice.
"And that's what we were, when we were writing each other. And before that ... well, I wouldn't even say that we dated. Not really."
"Why not?"
"I was flattered, Ron, but, well, not enough interested in him, if you want to know."
Ron nodded, trying to appear nonchalant, but inside he was almost jumping wih joy.
"What about you?" she asked in return. "I mean, Lavender seemed pretty forward."
"Well, I —" he blushed and shut his mouth, looking away.
"You what?" she asked rather quickly. "You can tell me, Ron."
"Just snogging and I — well, I might have touched her ti— her breasts a few times. Over the clothes. And her ass. Nothing more."
Hermione looked at him, a teasing smile on her face. "Were you going to say 'tits', Ron?"
"Er — yeah. Sorry," he apologised, his ears getting hot once more. Hermione laughed.
"I don't mind, you idiot. There's nothing wrong with calling them 'tits.' It's a sexier name than 'breasts,' don't you think?"
Fucking fuck!
Ron stared at Hermione as if he had never seen her before.
"The fact that I like being responsible, like to study and that I follow the rules doesn't mean I'm a prude, you know," she explained, sounding a bit offended.
"I know, I know," he quickly said. "It's just — well, strange to be having this chat."
"Why? Don't you talk with Harry about sex? I believed all boys did."
"Well, yeah, a bit," he admitted. "Though not much. I mean, the guy is going out with my sister and has liked her for the last year. The last thing I want or need is to know what he does, or wants to do, with her."
Hermione laughed again. "Yeah, I imagine."
They fell into a comfortable silence as they kept walking, leaving the park behind them and entering the neighbourhood where Hermione lived. Then, just when they were approaching her house, she spoke again.
"I like our talks, Ron. I want to be able to talk about anything with you."
He smiled at her. "I like them too. Yeah, it was a bit odd, I won't deny it, but it was also good."
I only hope this doesn't mean you'll tell me about boys you find attractive, or about when you finally — he shook his head, not wanting to imagine her telling him she had finally slept with some idiot who might just want to get into her knickers and nothing else. The mere thought was enough to make his blood boil.
They went the rest of the way in quiet companionship until she exclaimed "at least!" when they reached her house, the both of them thirsty and sweaty. They walked around the house to the backyard, to find her mum lying on a deck chair under a giant umbrella, reading and with a cold drink next to her.
She raised her eyes from the book and smiled at them. "You look a bit hot, dears," she commented as they approached. "I told you it was too hot for a walk, Hermione."
"Yes, yes, you were right," Hermione accepted. "I just wanted to show Ron my primary school and the town centre. And Priory Country Park as we came back."
Jean Granger laughed. "He's still got another week and half here, honey; you have plenty of time to show him around. Relax a little."
"I know, I know," Hermione responded. "Gods, I'm parched; I'm going to get myself something to drink." She turned towards Ron. "What would you like, Ron?"
"One of those fuzzy drinks, please."
"Okay. Ice?"
"Yeah."
Hermione walked towards the house, and Ron couldn't help but stare at her ass, which looked delicious in those tight shorts she was wearing. Fuck, he had stared at her ass countless of times, but now, after the talk they had had ...
The fact that I like to be responsible, like to study and that I follow the rules doesn't mean I'm a prude, Ron.
Bloody fuck. And she said 'tits' ...
"Sit down, Ron, you must be tired," said Hermione's mum, taking him out of his reverie and reminding him that he wasn't alone. Yeah, get a stiffy in front of her by staring at her daughter's ass, you idiot!
"Yeah, thanks," he muttered, lying down on one of the comfortable chairs, thankful for the shade the umbrella provided and hoping she wouldn't notice how flustered he was.
Mrs Granger took a sip of her drink and looked at him. "So, did you like the tour, then?"
"Yeah. It was nice seeing the town where Hermione grew up."
"She is really happy to have you here, you know," her mother told him. "She practically jumped in joy when I suggested that she should invite you."
Ron stared at her, a bit confused. She was smiling a bit oddly, as if she were hinting at something. But the only thing he could think about was that — No, it couldn't be that, no matter how much he would want to believe it. And even if Hermione fancied him, her mother wouldn't give him hints, wouldn't she?
Hermione came back just then and gave him his drink. As she bent over a bit, he couldn't help but get a glimpse at her cleavage. Bloody hell, that tank top she was wearing fit her so well, and her breasts, though not very large, looked absolutely perfect: round, perky, firm. He could feel himself starting to sweat once more.
"Thank you," he managed to say, and she beamed at him.
Feeling his throat get even drier, he took a good sip of his drink, relishing in how cold and tasty it was.
Hermione sat down next to her mother and the two of then began to talk animatedly, and Ron couldn't help but watch her, letting his mind run down a way he usually tried to avoid. Could it be that she liked him as more than a friend? If he examined the facts, it was true that he had thought she seemed to avoid him a bit during the time he had been going out with Lavender. Hadn't she seemed much more cheerful after he had broken up with her? And the rest of the year she had spent much more time with him, looking more playful, even a bit more affectionate. And now here at her house, he could tell that she appeared to sit a bit closer to him when they watched the TV on the sofa.
Could it be that she really liked him? That she had wanted him to be here while Harry was out so they could be alone and maybe —?
Fuck, the idea was simply too good to be true ...
" — right, Ron?"
"Er — what?" he asked, jerking out of his thoughts.
"I was telling Mum that we should go have breakfast at that bakery. You know, the one which had —"
"Oh, yes. Yeah, definitely. But only if I can invite," he hurried to say, not wanting to appear as wanting to sponge too much from her parents, even if he was their guest. "I don't want to —"
"Absolutely not, Ron," denied Hermione's mum, interrupting him. "You're our guest. I bet Hermione hasn't ever paid for anything while she was at your house."
"Well, no, but we don't usually go out for dinners or lunch. So —"
"I said 'no,' and that's it," replied Mrs Granger in a mock authoritarian tone. "We want you to enjoy the Muggle world, so the discussion is over."
Ron glanced at Hermione, who shrugged, a wide smile on her face.
"Anyway, dears, I've got something to tell you," Mrs Granger continued, and both teenagers directed their attention back at her. "We've been invited to the Arstons' country house for their summer dinner and party. "Of course, Helen told me to bring you, Hermione, and so Ron is also invited." Ron didn't know who the Arstons were, by, by the way Hermione's expression had changed, she wasn't very keen in going to this party.
"But that house is a hundred miles away!" exclaimed Hermione unhappily.
"Yes, I know. We're going to stay the night and come back in the morning, as always," her mother explained. "But," she added, as Hermione opened her mouth to say something else, "I know you don't really like these parties, so, if you prefer, you two can stay here."
Hermione's expression lit up at those words. "Thank God!" she exclaimed, relieved. But then seemed to realise something and looked at Ron for confirmation. "Unless you want to go, of course."
"Well, I don't know those people, so, if you'd rather stay, I'm fine with that."
You're going to be alone with Hermione. Alone with Hermione in her empty house. Fuck, aren't you a lucky sod?
"That's settled, then," said Hermione, slamming her palms onto her thighs. "I think I'm going to have a shower, I feel so sweaty. Do you want to take one, Ron?"
"Yeah, that'd be very nice," he nodded.
"Do you mind if I go first?"
"No, of course not."
"Well, I should go get ready, too," said Mrs Granger, getting up. "Your father will be here son, and we need to get going."
The three of them entered the house, Ron's mind still swirling with thoughts of the evening to come. Should he try and make a move? Though, what if Hermione didn't feel the same? It would be horribly awkward, wouldn't it?
Hermione and her mum went upstairs. The Grangers had an en-suite bathroom in their room, so both women could shower at the same time, while Ron took the used glasses to the kitchen. He quickly washed them with his wand and then had a glass of cold water before going back to the living room. He thought about what to do for half a minute, but, not really knowing, he decided to go and prepare his clothes for when Hermione was done. He climbed up the stairs, and as he passed in front of the bathroom, he heard his friend calling him.
"Yeah?" he asked, stopping and facing the open door.
Hermione approached him and Ron couldn't stop his randy thoughts about Hermione naked in the shower. He still could hear her saying she wasn't a prude and talking about tits ...
"Can you take my watch back to my room?" she asked, taking it off her wrist and giving it to him. "I forgot to leave it there."
"Yes, of course," he nodded, gulping, making an effort not to look down at her cleavage.
"Can you put it in the top drawer of the left bedside table? I won't use it until tomorrow."
"Yeah," he nodded absentmindedly, as she was shaking her head to undo the bun she had put her hair in before leaving the house in the morning. Fuck, was she sexy!
"Thank you," she said with a smile. "I won't be long," she promised, and closed the door.
Ron went down the hallway, his head still a mess where hope, doubt, anticipation and fear mixed in a way threatening to drive him insane.
Shaking his head, he walked into her room and then stopped, frozen. Bloody hell, which bedside table had she said?
Unable to remember, he decided to try the closer one, the one in the right side of the bed. So he approached it and opened the top drawer, lowering the hand with the watch to leave it there.
His hand stopped in mid-air, as his mind processed what his eyes were seeing.
Fuck! Oh, fuck ...!
Clearly, this wasn't the drawer. This was the drawer in which Hermione kept her underwear. Specifically, her panties.
His mouth hung open as he stared, his mind in short-circuit. There were practical cotton knickers, both black and white and even blue and yellow, but then also there much naughtier ones: panties of black, red or even pink lace; some that looked silky, others, satiny. Even what seemed to be thongs! Thongs! The image of Hermione wearing just a tiny thong was almost too much. His cock was hard as steel, and he had to restrain himself not to take one pair and sniff them while he wanked. Another image of him wanking over the drawer, cumming all over those sexy knickers almost drove him mad with desire, but also forced himself to come back to reality.
Stop it, you pervert! If Hermione saw you right now, drooling over her panties, she wouldn't look at him ever again!
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, yet he couldn't stop staring. He had never thought — well, that was a lie, he had imagined Hermione in lingerie countless of times, of course, but would have never believed she had such a collection. No, certainly she wasn't a prude. Fuck, even if Hermione didn't have a boyfriend, she liked to wear sexy underwear. She liked feeling sexy! The thought in itself was mind-blowing.
Suddenly realising he had been staring for a long time, he closed the drawer and went to the other side of the bed to leave her watch in the right drawer this time. Then he went to his bedroom and sat down on the bed, trying to control his traitorous body.
"Fucking hell," he muttered, shaking his head. Merlin, what wouldn't he do to see Hermione wearing those sexy panties! And surely she owned matching bras!
Hermione's tits covered in black lace ...
Fuck ...
He shook his head once more, and got up to get his clothes ready, wishing for his raging erection to go down.
Ten minutes later, he heard a door opening and, a moment later, Hermione appeared on his doorstep wearing jeans and a t-shirt and looked rather refreshed. "Your turn," she said with a grin.
"Thanks," he replied, getting up, his folded clothes in his hands. He walked quickly towards the bathroom, thinking that he was going to have good wank in the shower, but, as he was approaching the door, he saw Hermione's father climbing up the stairs. Mr Granger smiled at him, and Ron's thoughts about jacking off dissolved into nothing.
"So, you both will leave us old sods alone, won't you?" Hermione's dad asked with a smile.
"Yeah, it seems so."
"I suspected it. Hermione's not very keen on this get-togethers, but Jean and I love them. Hermione just gets asked too many questions that she's got difficulties answering to," Mr Granger explained.
"Yeah, I imagine."
The older man nodded at him and Ron went into the bathroom, closing the door after himself. He took a quick shower, images of Hermione there just minutes before swarming his mind. He got out of the stall, knowing that he was on the brink of succumbing to the desire to wank. However, as he dried himself, fantasy Hermione came back again, this time getting into a pair of tiny, sexy black lace panties just after havind dried herself ...
"Stop that, you wanker!" he scolded himself through gritted teeth.
He finished drying his body and hair with his wand and put on his clothes. Then opened the laundry basket to put his damp towel inside. And, as he was about to drop it, he saw Hermione's shorts, entwined with the towel she had used. He just stared at it, open-mouthed and unable to move.
Hermione's dirty clothes ...
Unable to stop himself, he dropped the towel onto the floor and delved into the dirty clothes until he found what he had been looking for: the underwear she had just taken off.
A pair of tiny, pink lace panties that had just been in contact with Hermione's pussy.
Ron swore inwardly and called himself a dozen or so insults, being 'pervert' the kinder of them. However, his erection didn't abate. And, to make things worse, before he could realise what he was doing, he was lifting the panties towards his face and sniffing them.
Oh, fuck, she smells amazing!
Of course, he had never smelled a cunt before, but knew, right then, that Hermione's smelled like heaven. Her scent was musky, and powerful, and it made him randy as hell. Definitely, just wanking once wasn't going to be enough tonight. He was going to cum thinking about burying his face between those toned thighs of hers and —
He looked at the sexy garment once more. No, he wouldn't, would he? He wouldn't dare —
But he did. He shoved the panties into his pocket and then put the dirty clothes back in the basket. Then he exited the bathroom and went to this bedroom, moving — and feeling — as if he were a criminal that had just committed a robbery. Once he was safe behind the closed door of his room he just dropped onto his bed, almost panting, feeling guilty and, at the same time, terribly excited. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, until his breathing was once more even and slow. Then, slowly, he slid his right hand into his pocket and pulled the knickers out of it. Taking them between his hands, he stretched them and stared down at the flimsy fabric. Fuck, they were so incredibly sexy! But now was not the time to — well, to use them, or stare at them. He was too nervous and still too conflicted about the whole thing, even though his conscience had surrendered to his perverted libido. So he opened the drawer in which he had placed his own underwear and shoved them under his boxers before lying down on the bed with his long legs hanging from it. Fuck, he had just had a shower and was already sweating. If he didn't compose himself soon, Hermione would know something was off with him.
Of course something is off with you, you sick pervert! You just stole her dirty panties!
"It's just for tonight," he whispered to himself. "Tomorrow morning I'll put them back in the basket."
Covered in your cum?
Oh fuck, he hadn't thought about that! But no, no, he definitely wouldn't do that. He simply couldn't, right? Or could he? It would feel so good, and so hot, wrapping those panties around his cock ... He could cast a Cleaning Charm on them afterwards ...
Knowing that he had lost another battle against himself, and that he would be unable to put a limit to how he would be using his treasure, he tried to compose himself. He got up and approached the window, looking at the street in front of the house and the other houses, and watching the people come an go until he felt normal enough and left the room. He stopped outside the doorway to take a deep breath. He could hear the muffled sounds of Hermione's parents talking in their bedroom as they got ready, and was thankful that he wouldn't have to face them for a bit. Then he went downstairs, just to find out that Hermione was comfortably sitting on the couch, her back against the arm and with one leg tucked under her, reading. She looked up when she heard him approach her.
"Refreshed?" she asked him with a smile.
"Oh, yeah. Definitely," he affirmed, feeling like an idiot.
A perverted idiot who steals his best friend's knickers to wank.
Shut up!
"Ron?" Hermione asked, the smile dropping from her face. "Are you all right?" she inquired, concerned.
"Yeah, yeah — I am. Just a bit tired, I guess."
"You seem a bit flushed."
"I'm fine, Hermione," he said gently, trying to appear normal and nonchalant. He smiled at her and forced himself to sit on the couch, though making sure there was some distance between them. "So, what do you want to do tonight, as your parents won't be here?"
"Well, I was going to ask you that. I mean, you're the guest, so you get to decide," she responded with a grin.
"Mmmh, I don't know ... What if we decide about our dinner before? I don't know about you, but I'm not much of a cook."
"Yeah, I imagine," she said, chuckling. "What about ordering pizza? Have you ever had it?"
"I've heard about it, but no, never ate that before. It's an Italian dish, isn't it?"
"Yes. And you'll love it, I'm sure."
"So we're going out for dinner?"
"No, we call the restaurant, place the order and they prepare it and then deliver it to us here."
"Really?" Ron asked, astonished. "Like Fred and George's Owl Delivery Service, but for food?"
Hermione laughed. "Yes, exactly like that."
"Amazing!" Ron exclaimed in awe. "Yeah, let's do that then!"
"I'll get a few brochures so we can choose what we want," she said, getting up and opening one of the drawers of the coffee table. Ron's eyes went at once to her bum, and though the jeans she had put on after her shower now weren't as tight as the shorts she had been wearing before, they still made her ass look amazing. He wondered what kind of underwear she was wearing, but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside. He had managed to regain control of himself with the plans for dinner and he didn't want to loose it once more, or get a hard on which, in his jeans, would be rather noticeable.
"Here they are," Hermione muttered, getting up and dropping onto the couch next to him. She gave him one of the menus. "Look at the ingredients and tell me what you prefer," she told him.
Ron stared at them, blinking quickly. "Bloody hell, there's so many to choose from."
"Yeah, pizza can have almost any ingredient you can think of. But I think you'll like bacon and cheese."
"Oh, yeah, I love bacon and cheese sandwiches!"
"Yes, I had noticed," she said, giving him a smirk. "I suggest you order that one, then. I'll get one with tuna and olives. We can share them, so you can taste mine."
"Okay," he nodded, looking down, trying not to let the words 'so you can taste mine,' conjuring images in his head that definitely wouldn't be appropriate right now.
"Do you want some of the desserts they offer?" she asked. "They offer some ice-cream and tarts as well."
"Dunno," he replied, shrugging. "What do you think? Will I still be hungry after eating the pizza?"
Hermione chuckled, amused. "Well, giving your appetite, it is possible. But we can order the large ones, so it is possible that they are enough. Even for you."
"Okay, then," he said, just as Hermione's parents began appeared on the stairs, ready to go.
"Well, we've got to get going," Mr Granger told them. "What are you going to do? What are you making for dinner?"
"Oh, I want Ron to try pizza, so we're going to order two."
"Not wanting to cook, eh?" Mr Granger said with a smile. "Good idea." He looked at the wall clock. "Well, honey, we've got to go. Enjoy yourselves and be careful. We left the number of the Arstons next to the phone in case you need anything, okay?"
"Yes, Dad," Hermione said, a trace of exasperation in her voice. "We can do Magic now, son don't worry. Everything will be fine."
"I know, I know," he replied. He approached Hermione and gave her a kiss on the top of her head before patting Ron's shoulder.
"Well, have fun, dears," Mrs Granger told them with a smile.
"You too," replied Ron. The two adults nodded, saying 'oh, we will,' and exited through the back door to get into the car.
"Well, alone, then," said Hermione with a little smile. Was it Ron's imagination, of did she seem a bit nervous?
"Yeah," he said, nodding, and gulped.
"What do you want to do?" she asked. "It's a bit early for dinner."
Rip the clothes off you and fuck you right on this sofa, was his first thought, and almost immediately slapped himself mentally.
"Fancy a chess match?"
Hermione chuckled. "What, you want to beat me for the umpteenth time?"
Ron shrugged, smirking.
"Oh, honestly, Ron. I know it mustn't be fun for you, you defeat me too easily."
"Well, it's always fun to remind the Great Hermione Granger, Witch Extraordinaire, that she's only human," he teased.
Hermione laughed and smacked him playfully on the arm. "Idiot. Hearing you one'd say I'm so full of myself."
"Nah, you're not that bad."
"I'm so glad you approve," she replied in mock gratefulness, and used her wand to Summon the chess set. Her father wasn't a fan of chess, but her mother was, and she and Ron had played a few matches.
They set up the board and played two games. The first time, Hermione lost spectacularly, so, the second time, he decided to explain her his reasoning after every move to teach her. When he finally checkmated her, she looked up and smiled at him.
"I liked this," commented Hermione, and Ron looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "You explaining to me, I mean. I think now I understand it better."
"You explain loads of things to me, Hermione. And I liked this, too. You're so eager to learn that it makes teaching you something very enjoyable."
Hermione beamed, looking at him with something that could only describe as tenderness. His stomach made a flip, and his heart rate went up. Merlin, what wouldn't he do to have her looking at him this way?
"Thank you," she said, a bit shyly.
He shrugged it off and then looked at the clock. "Now I'm getting hungry. How long does it take for the pizza to arrive once we order it?"
"Around half an hour," she responded. "Do you want to order, then?"
"If you don't mind ..."
"Not at all, I'm getting hungry as well."
After Hermione had called, they looked through her parents' collection of films. They decided to watch Casper, as Hermione thought Ron would found amusing how Muggles view ghosts. She put the tape in the player and they started watching it while waiting for their dinner. The order came twenty-five minutes later, and they made a pause to get the pizzas while Ron fetched glasses and drinks.
"Merlin, this tastes amazing!" Ron exclaimed in delight after his first bite. "I love it!"
"I knew you would," commented Hermione happily, a wide smile on his face.
Ron ketp eating as they continued watching the film. He laughed, shaking his head at the absurdity of it. But despite how enthralled he was by the film, he couldn't help but notice that Hermione kept glancing at him — specifically, at his mouth. So, at some point he turned towards her and she blushed a bit.
"What?" he asked. "I'm eating with my mouth open? Sorry, you know my manners aren't the best when I'm hungry and it comes down to food."
"No, no, it's not that," she hurried to say. "It's just — well, it's just that I like seeing you enjoying it so much. The food, I mean."
Ron arched an eyebrow. "Really? You used to complain about my eating manners." Though, if he was sincere, it had been a long time since the last time she had done that.
"Well, I want you to enjoy you stay here, Ron, and I know how much you love food. I want you to experience everything Muggle and to have a great time."
"Hermione, I always have a great time with you, you don't have to worry. I'm having fun and I really, really love pizza. They should make it at Hogwarts! Hey — do you think if we talk to the House Elves —?" he started to say, excited by the idea, but stopped seeing the frown on her face. "Forget it. You'll just have to invite me more times so I can eat it."
Her frown turned into a wide smile. "It's a deal," she said, and then redirected their attention back to their dinner and the film.
"You liked it?" Hermione asked, as they used their wands to clean. "The film, I mean."
"Oh, yeah, it was very funny. A bit stupid, of course, but funny. You know what? Someone should bring this to the Wizarding world. I mean, we've got the equivalent to radio, we should have this as well."
"Yes, though, if I'm completely honest, I don't really mind that there is no TV. People interacts more with others."
Ron laughed, and then smirked at her. "Or they bury their faces in thick books."
Hermione blushed a bit and laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. "Don't you dare tease me about my reading habits, Ronald Weasley!"
"Okay, okay. You're not obsessed, just very interested. In very healthy and cute way."
Hermione laughed again. "So — now what?" she asked a moment later, looking a bit nervous. "Do you want to do something else?"
"Dunno," he answered, shrugging. "Another chess match?" he suggested, feeling a bit lost. Fuck, he was alone with Hermione in her house and yet he couldn't bring himself to do what he really wanted to do. He was such a coward.
"Maybe tomorrow, if you keep teaching me?"
"Okay."
"We could ... I don't know, talk, perhaps?" she proposed.
"Sure. What about?"
She shrugged. "Do you know where Harry and Sirius are?"
Ron felt a bit disappointed that she wanted to talk about Harry, despite the fact that he missed his best friend. "He wrote to me four days ago. They were in Moscow."
She nodded. "Yeah, he told me that as well."
"Do you miss him being here?"
She thought about it for a moment. "Well, of course I'd like for him to be here and see where I live, but —" she stared directly into his eyes, "but I don't really mind that it's just you and me. I have lots of fun with you, Ron."
"So do I. I — I really like being here with you, Hermione. I'm so glad you invited me to come."
She shifted on the sofa so one of her legs were resting in the cushion between them and she could face him completely. He could feel her knee touching his thigh, and all that had happened that day passed in front of him. Especially the conversation they had had while walking beside the park.
"I realised it's been a long time since we have a real row. Not our usual bickering, but a row," he commented.
"Yes," she nodded, smiling. "I'm glad from that." she stared into his eyes again, her gaze intense. "Can I tell you a secret?"
"Please," he replied, eager.
"I like bickering with you. Not the rows when we stop talking to each other, those are horrible, but when we bicker ... I don't know, I just — it's almost playful, don't you think? Or maybe I am mental."
"No, you are not. I'm glad we didn't have a real row in a long time, too. I think that this year we've — we've been closer, and I like that," he confessed, and, feeling bold, put his right hand on her knee.
"I agree with you," she said, and, to his delight, put her own hand on top of his. "We're closer, and that — that makes me happy."
"Except when I was with Lavender," he added, approaching the subject he had really wanted to talk about. "I never told you before, but I used to wonder ... It's just that it seemed as if you didn't like her much."
Hermione looked down, flushing a bit. "Well, she's all right, I suppose, but I think you deserve much better."
"Do I?" he asked, using his thumb to caress her hand. "I'm just Ron Weasley, Hermione."
The look she gave him was fierce. "Yes, you are. And you know that? That's amazing. You — you are an incredible person, Ron, and I am so grateful for having you as one of my best friends."
Ron felt hot. "So am I," he said. Hermione smiled at him, and he inquired, "Do you really think I deserve better than Lavender? I mean, it's not as if girls are throwing themselves at me."
She looked down once more. "I'm sure there are lots of girls that would love to be with you."
"But I don't want any of them," he hastened to say, feeling more confident the more they talked.
"You don't?" she asked, hopeful.
Ron grabbed her hand with his and shook his head slowly. "Why should I, when —" he took a deep breath, "when I already have the most amazing girl in the world as my best friend?"
She stared at him, open-mouthed, and then a smile started to creep up her face.
"Come here."
At once, Hermione got onto her knees and then approached him, placing her hands on his shoulders. He put his on her slim, perfect waist, both of them staring into each other's eyes.
"You're so beautiful, Hermione."
"Ron, kiss me already."
With a groan, Ron brought her against his chest and their lips met, at first tentatively, but, in mere seconds, they were snogging wildly, their arms around the other as tightly as possible, unable to get enough of the other. Ron felt exhilarated for being, at long last, snogging Hermione. He had imagined it countless times, but his dreams didn't make justice to the real thing. Slowly, his slid his hands under her t-shirt and caressed the bare skin of her sides, making her moan and Ron's cock to roar inside his jeans. Merlin, she was so fucking soft ...
Finally, after he didn't know how long, she pulled away slowly, her breath tickling his swollen lips, and they stared into each other's eyes.
Both of them smiled, at first shyly, and then more broadly until they were grinning like a pair of fools.
"Merlin's pants, Hermione I've wanted to do this for so long ..."
"Me too," she whispered to him, her hands playing with the hairs on his nape. "And, for a first kiss, it was amazing."
"Fuck, yeah, you can say that," he said with a grin. "Care to give it another go?"
"Oh, yes," she nodded, and lowered her mouth onto his. Passion ignited between them like dry wood hit with Fiendfyre. Hermione put her tongue into his mouth and he sucked, on it, delighted, between changing the game and putting it into hers. She started to caress his neck and shoulders under his shirt, and he moved his own to her back. As they kissed and kissed, his fingers touched to waistband of her jeans. There was a little gap between it and Hermione's skin, and Ron wanted nothing more than to shove his hands through it, under her trousers, and feel her ass. It was too soon for that, though, so he forced himself to move them up her back, but stopping before reaching the strap of her bra.
"Gods, Ron, you kiss so well," she whispered against his lips, her voice laced with want and desire.
"So do you, Hermione. Your mouth feels amazing. And your skin. Merlin, all of you are amazing."
"Kiss me more, Ron. I can't get enough of your lips on mine."
"Fuck, Hermione ... you drive me completely mad," he confessed, moving his right hand to the back of her head and taking possession of her mouth once more. As they snogged, he entangled his hand into her bushy, wild, awesome hair, relishing in how it felt between his fingers.
They kept kissing and kissing, not wanting to stop. Ron's cock was raging inside his jeans, feeling very uncomfortable, but he wouldn't put an end to this. She felt so bloody good.
Finally, after — how long? Half an hour? fifty minutes? They separated, both breathless and with their lips swollen.
"Fuck, that was one hell of a snog!" Ron blurted out, and Hermione laughed merrily.
"Yes, I suppose that describes it very accurately," she nodded, beaming at him. "Gods, Ron, I'm so happy!" she exclaimed, and then threw her arms round his neck and embraced him tightly. He put his own around her waist and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her body against his and inhaling her wonderful scent. "Every day I wanted to throw myself at you, but I was so afraid ..." she trailed off.
"So was I," he admitted. "I couldn't believe that you could like me the way I liked you, and so, every time I thought about telling you anything, I chickened out."
"But today you did," she said.
"Yeah. I don't know why, it's just — well, after our sex talk in the afternoon, and — dunno, just the way you've been acting. And well, we're alone here and though I was trying to tell myself it was just wishful thinking, I couldn't help but feel that you were trying to convey, in a subtle way, that you liked me."
"I was."
Ron smiled at her and pecked her lips. "So — are we together, then? I mean, I'm not interested in just fooling around, Hermione. Not with you. I want the — the real thing."
"I want to be your girlfriend, Ron. No, sod that, I am your girlfriend."
Ron laughed, delighted at hearing those words coming from her mouth. "Then I suppose I am your boyfriend."
"Yes. You're mine, Ron Weasley," she said. "Completely and absolutely mine," she added, and then kissed him again. Slowly at first, but soon it turned into a full blown snog once more.
Shit, if it is this good while we kiss, how would it be when we fuck?
His cock twitched uncomfortably.
Ron pulled away, panting heavily.
"Hermione, you don't know what you do to me," he told her, regaining his breath.
She smiled smugly at him. "I imagine that the same you do to me," she whispered, giving him a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. Then, she snuggled into his lap, put her head in the crook of his neck and her left hand on his right shoulder and sighed contentedly.
Ron rested his head on the top of hers and embraced her to hold her against him.
"I like this," he commented in a soft voice. "You feel so good in my arms."
"I like being in your arms, boyfriend," she said, the smirk obvious in her voice.
Ron put a finger under her chin and tilted her head upwards. Then he claimed her mouth once more, though this time the kiss was slow and loving instead of passionate. After half a minute they parted, very slowly, as if wanting to savour their contact for as long as they could.
Hermione, however, didn't seem satisfied by that, and then straddled him, starting another snog. Ron went for it as well, so they kissed and kissed while he tried with all his might not to buck against her. They would make little pauses to breath before engaging their mouths once more, their hands roaming over the other's body: Hermione's on Ron's chest; Ron's on her lower back.
As their passion grew, Ron felt close to burst, and knew he had to stop or would do something crazy.
"Hermione," he said breaking the kiss and panting heavily. "We must stop. I — fuck, you drive me mad. I want you so much."
"Mmmh," she moaned, sending shivers down his spine. "Yes, you're right."
Reluctantly, she got up. He let his eyes feast on her body and then got up as well.
"It's late," he commented. "We should go to bed."
She nodded. "I don't want to leave you, though."
"Neither do I, but if we keep at it — fuck, I'll end up ravaging you on this couch, Hermione."
Hermione bit her lip, as if pondering something, but then just nodded. "You're right. We should go."
He grabbed her left hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. "I'm looking forward to the rest of the summer," he said.
"Me too."
They went upstairs. They brushed their teeth and then moved to their rooms, stopping in the hallway just between their doors. "Goodnight, Hermione," he told her, bending down to give her a kiss.
"Goodnight, Ron," she replied, caressing his cheek lovingly. "Have nice dreams."
"Oh, I will," he said, smiling wickedly at her. She beamed at him, and, after giving him another peck on his lips, went into her room. She turned round to smile at him one last time and then closed the door.
Ron just stared at it for a moment, and then, with a sigh, he walked into his own room, closed his door and fell onto the mattress, letting out another sigh.
"Fuck, I'm going out with Hermione ..." he muttered to himself, a face-splitting grin appearing on his face. "I'm going out with Hermione!" he exclaimed, a bit louder, and then just laughed, exhilarated. He thought about her lips on his, about her tongue, about the feel of her skin under his hands, and then his mind wandered to that drawer. Fuck, did she think of him when she bought all that lingerie? His cock, still hard, roared. He definitively needed a couple of wanks tonight. Maybe even three.
And then he remembered the panties he had taken before. Quickly, he retrieved them from his bag and admired them. He knew he shouldn't do this, but, well, now Hermione was his girlfriend, wasn't she? It wasn't as when she was just her friend ...
Hurriedly, he took all his clothes and lay on the bed, looking down at his cock and palming it a bit. He had to admit it was rather large, its thickness being the most remarkable feature.
"I do have a fat cock, don't I?" he commented, and put the panties over his nose, sniffing deeply. "Hermione, your pussy smells so good ... You're wet for my fat dick, aren't you?" he said as he started to stroke himself. In his mind, Hermione was wearing the pink lace set, her panties rubbing against his naked cock as they snogged.
I do, Ron.
"Now I'm gonna fuck you with it, love," he whispered, getting more and more excited and wanking harder. "I'm going to shove my big cock into that tight tiny pussy of yours. It'll feel so good for both of us."
Ron, please. Please, fuck me ...
Being already near the brink, he couldn't resist it. He wrapped the panties around his cock, so his tip was pressed against the gusset, and then began to jerk off fast, his other hand cupping his aching balls as he grunted in pleasure.
"Fuck, I'm so close, Hermione ... Oh, Merlin, your pussy feels so good ... so bloody good! Ooooh, fuckfuckfuck, Hermione! Cumming!" he yelled as he spurted, ecstasy filling his body after a much needed, very strong release. "Hermione ... oh, fuck, Hermione ..." he sighed, his eyes still closed as he smiled in bliss.
The sound of someone gasping made his to snap his eyes open. He looked towards the door, where the noise had come from, and saw Hermione, who had opened his door without him realising it, staring at him with an expression of absolute shock.
Yeah, a little cliff-hanger, but you won't have to wait much, just a couple of days or so.
And now about the challenge. I keep the same one I posted in the second chapter of Discovering Ourselves: Ron and Hermione being naughty during class.
Anyone dares to write one?