AN: A continuation of yesterday's drabble - Shape of You

By the end of the day, Ron is exhausted. Every inch of his body aches, and after spending the afternoon learning about intricate muggle repellant charms, there is a constant pounding behind his eyes. He's looking forward to getting home to his South London one-bedroom flat and sinking into a boiling hot bath. The Cannons are playing the Harpies tonight, and Ron may even treat himself to a bottle of muggle beer. He deserves it.

Ron enters the changing rooms and makes a beeline for his locker. His eyes widen as he spots a piece of parchment sticking out from the green metal door. Plonking himself down on the wooden bench, he lifts his wand and lazily summons the paper. A chuckle escapes his lips as he unfolds it and begins to read.

Still up for that run? Meet me at the muggle entrance to the Ministry at 5.15. Be there, or forget about dinner! ;-)

Although nobody has signed the note, he knows who sent it.

"Fuck's sake," he murmurs to himself as he hauls himself up to his feet and opens his locker. There's no way he can decline her invite.

Preferring to leave a good impression on his dates, Ron debates a shower, but it's pointless if he's off for a run. Plus, it would be a little weird if he turned up fresh and clean. Instead, he lifts one arm and hazards a sniff.

It'll do.

After changing into his running kit, he performs a quick Augmenti to fill up his water bottle before heading out of the Ministry to meet Hermione.

⁂

"I didn't think you were going to show." Hermione raises a leg, pressing it against the red telephone box in an exaggerated stretch.

"I'm not one to turn down a challenge, even if my day has been horrifically gruelling."

"I'm in the same classes as you." She raises her eyebrows at him. "And I could go for hours yet."

Her double-entendre brings a grin to his face as visions flash into his mind of what he might have to do to wear her out. He's looking forward to getting the opportunity to explore that further, but he bites back any teasing retort for now and instead tries to focus on the exercise ahead.

"So, where are you taking me?"

"I thought we could do the figure of eight around St. James' and Green Park, then head back down Whitehall to finish off?"

Ron nods. He knows the route well—it's a standard training run—and five kilometres should be easy enough, even with his tired legs. "Do you think you're going to be able to keep up with me? I've got long legs."

"Yeah, but I'm small and nippy." Hermione winks back. "We'll see, I guess."

Without warning, she takes off, turning left at the first junction before disappearing down King Charles Street. Ron rolls his eyes but follows after her, closing the gap between them without overexerting himself. "So, are you just taking it easy? Or is this just a warm-up?"

"I was just gauging your pace," she quips. "I didn't want to push you too hard straight away, especially after your awful day."

They take the first kilometre at a leisurely rate, their trainers battering a steady rhythm against the grey pavement. Their banter continues without either of them becoming too out of breath. For every joke or tease Hermione throws at him, Ron doubles and fires back at her without too much effort, which pleases him greatly.

Once they enter the park and move away from the commuters, she picks up the pace. Despite the fact Ron knows he could probably push himself further, Ron runs level to her. He doesn't have to win this one, and he's having way too much fun getting to know Hermione instead.

Anyone else observing the pair would think Ron and Hermione have been training together all their lives. They weave around tourists and dance around each other like two courting Erumpents. The late afternoon is perfect for a run. The sun is shining, but it's not too hot, and there's no resistance from the usual breeze that whips around the park. Birds tweet in the trees, and for a moment, Ron even forgets that they're in the city, which is easy enough with a running partner like Hermione.

The fluid way that she moves her body is alluring. Each step is confident, like she was born to run, and her path changes with the flow of other park-goers as if they didn't exist.

Ron's heart is racing, and he's not sure he can wholly blame the exercise for it.

The five kilometres pass in a blink of an eye, and they find themselves at the edge of the park. Grasping hold of the ornate green railings, Ron fights to catch his breath, although it becomes a lot more difficult when Hermione settles next to him to stretch again.

"You're always stretching," he complains, turning his head to watch her.

"It's important. Doesn't your Ministry teach you that?"

Ron shakes his head. "Nope! We fight, then we go to the pub." He does not miss the roll of her eyes, and a wave of glee rushes over his body. "You can teach me how to stretch if you want?" he offers.

"Mmmm, I bet you'd love that, Ron Weasley." She places her hand on her hip and twists her upper body towards him as her spare hand raises above her head. "I could guide your body into all the right positions."

Gulping, Ron trains his focus on her face, not allowing his eyes to drift to her heaving chest or the way the material of her top shifts to reveal an expanse of dark skin above the waistband of her shorts. "As much as I'd love that, I'm not an easy man. I'd prefer it if you wined and dined me first."

Hermione throws her head back, displaying the sexy column of her neck as she laughs. "I did promise you dinner if you came on a run with me. Tonight?"

"If you're free?" He tries his hardest to hide the surprise from his tone.

"I can make myself available for you. Meet at seven outside Charing Cross?" She lays her hand across his arm, sending a flurry of goosebumps over his skin at her touch.

He can't respond. Every attempt of forming a set of sensible sounding words fails before they even reach the tip of his tongue. Instead, he's suffocating in the intense tension between them.

A trail of sweat escapes Hermione's hairline, trickling down her forehead and the side of her face before disappearing over her jaw. He longs to follow it with his tongue, but they're in a public place, and he's pretty sure that licking a work colleague is against the Auror Code of Conduct.

Ron's gaze connects with Hermione's as she steps closer to him, the heat radiating from her body, causing his skin to burn. His heart pounds in anticipation as her eyes drop to his mouth, lingering there only for a moment before lifting back to his eyes. She nudges her head towards his, and Ron wets his lips to prepare himself for what's to come.

With a laugh, Hermione pulls away. She uses the railings to push herself back onto the path.

"Race you back to the Ministry," she yells as she disappears.

Shaking his head, Ron follows at a more sedate pace. He has his hands full with this witch.