Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.

A/N: This drabble is a follow-up to a previously drabble of mine titled "Need". Slightly steamy, and takes place during the events of DH in the tent. Enjoy!

Need Part 2: A Moment Like This

I toss and turn on my uncomfortable cot, sweating profusely from the unexpected heat wave. It's unusually torrid for the spring season, and not even a cooling charm seems to quell the high level of humidity pulsing through the muggy tent.

Looking over just a single arm's length away, I see Ron snoring away on his own cot. The fringe plastered to his forehead is damp, and I know that he must be sweltering underneath his wool blanket that hardly covers his bare legs. Ron often chooses to sleep in only his boxer shorts during the warmer months, and my mouth dries up at the mere thought of him stripping his shirt off to reveal his sweaty chest.

I want him. I want him bad.

Ever since our erotic encounter a couple of months ago in the midst of a frosty winter, we've found every excuse in the book to be close to each other. Ron will place his hand on my hip as he slides behind me on his way to the small kitchen area. I will hover over his shoulder while peering at Harry's map. We've even resorted to scooting our beds together on the nights when Harry is outside the tent on watch.

Despite my endless desire to stay as cool as possible in the oppressive heat, I wave the tip of my wand into the empty jar on the side table to create a bluebell flame. The light from the flame illuminates our small bubble, and allows me to trace the smattering of freckles on Ron's glistening face. My eyes linger on his lips, slightly parted as he breathes a steady stream of air in and out.

"Are you mental?" Ron croaks, breaking me out of my reverie. He rubs at his sleepy eyes as he wakes. "You want to add even more heat to this stuffy place?"

I want to say yes, in ways that don't just include physical temperature, but I bite my tongue.

"I just...relax better when I can see your face."

The hard lines outlining the frustration on his sweaty forehead disappear, his features softening as his eyes match mine.

"Do ya want me to come closer?"

He speaks with such tenderness that it takes everything in me not to leap onto his bed right then and there.

"I can — I can make space for you here." I shift my body to the opposite edge of my cot, patting the small space wedged between my frame and his.

Ron wastes no time sliding over, and I try not to let my gaze travel downward to his boxers. He lays on his side facing me, appearing conflicted as he tries to work out what to do with his arm that is currently stretched at an awkward angle under his head. I lift my own head up, indicating that he is free to loop his arm under the crook of my neck.

With a deep inhale, I breathe in his musky, sweat-filled scent that is just so Ron, and I wonder why we've never cuddled together before.

"How is this?" He mumbles into my hair.

"Perfect."

Although my skin burns as if I am stuck in the middle of a dry desert, the sensation of being curled up in Ron's arms truly is perfect.

When Ron starts drawing absent-minded circles on my exposed skin underneath the thin strap on my pyjama top, I realize just how precarious our current position is. The room becomes so stifling that it's hard for me to breathe, and I need my eyes to settle on something comforting — someone.

So, I look up.

We lock eyes with each other. His are so warm like the blazing sun, and I imagine a cloud of steam drifting through the air. I can almost hear the familiar whistle of the engine on the Hogwarts Express, and the thought takes me back to that very first day we met.

"You're close to me." My voice is a breathy whisper, so quiet that I wasn't certain that he could hear me. I keep my gaze firm on the bridge of his nose, scanning the ridges like I expect to find a patch of dirt there.

He sends me what I can only make out to be a quizzical expression in the glow of the blue flame. "Yes."

I shiver as Ron's fingers trail down my lower back. He doesn't even know what he is doing to me, so I find myself compelled to tell him exactly that. "You're...touching me."

Ron doesn't appear confused this time. Instead, he meets my gaze with a sizzling intensity. "Yes."

Our noses are almost touching now, and his hand presses on my back to push me closer and closer. My heart rate picks up, and my mouth parts to form a question. "Does this mean you want to kiss me?"

His reply is quick and unwavering. "Yes."

A magnetic force pulls us together, and my lips just barely graze his when he freezes.

"Wait."

My heart drops to my stomach, and I'm left shattered, thinking that he made a mistake.

I close my eyes, bracing myself for the inevitable rejection. Instead, his knuckles brush my soft cheek like a feathered quill, forcing my eyelids to flutter open.

"If we do this, you have to know. I — I don't think we can go back."

I let out an impatient sigh, knowing that I need him to make a move, otherwise I will be left only thinking about how hot and sticky I am. "I'm aware, Ron. There's no changing the past."

He purses his lips together and he grabs onto my hand, holding it tight between our quivering bodies. "Yes, but what I mean is that...you're it for me, Hermione. If I kiss you now, I'm not ever letting you go."

My heart explodes in my chest, turning any doubt into a swirl of happiness that overflows through me like boiling, molten lava out of a volcano.

All I can muster up is one word to describe my level of joy. "Good."

I hear his sharp intake of breath, almost like he was holding it as he waited for my response. "That's — that's really what you want? I mean, I don't want you to think that I—"

I cut off his tangent with my lips, determined to show him just how sure I am that he is the only one I want to kiss for the rest of my life.

I whimper as my mouth folds over his, desperate to taste him in a way that I have craved for so long. My arms break free from his hold, winding around to lock together behind his neck pulling him on top of me.

He's pressing me into the hard mattress, and I can feel him everywhere. His touch ignites the fiery blood inside my veins. My mouth opens to allow him to deepen the kiss, and I drink him in like water hydrating my parched mouth.

"Hermione," he breathes against my lips, and I don't think my name has ever sounded so sweet.

All too soon, his mouth pulls away at the slowest pace, and I relish the feel of our bottom lips lingering together before parting completely.

Ron's glazed-over azure blue eyes clear, revealing adoration shining behind the fog. "Whoa."

I touch my forehead against his and let out a giggle. "Whoa indeed."

This is what we are fighting for. Love. Happiness.

Time — time so that we can enjoy many more moments like this one.