After what happened last chapter, this chapter is a bit less smutty than the previous ones and focuses a bit more on the plot.
I already said that, despite following HBP and DH, due to the changes in the story there will be some important differences, and in this chapter we start to see some of them. Our favourite couple may not have been so good at keeping secrets as they think …
Chapter 5
Revealed Truth
Ron woke up, well rested and feeling exceptionally happy. It took him a second to know why, until he realised he was in Hermione's bed, and that his girlfriend was sleeping, snuggled against him, their legs entangled under the sheets. He blinked a few times and yawned, and then looked at her and couldn't help but smiling. She looked adorable, sleeping so peacefully with her lovely hair all over the pillow.
He lifted his head a bit and looked at the bedside table. It was still early, so Hermione's parents should still be asleep. He knew he should get up and go to his room, but the truth was that he didn't want to. He felt too comfortable in her bed, lying next to her. His mind drifted to what they had done the night before and he felt his morning erection get even harder. He kissed her forehead and she mumbled in her sleep.
"Mmh, Ron …?" she asked, still confused.
"Good morning, Hermione," he whispered and smiled at her.
She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him. She blinked a few times and then gave him a sleepy smile that made her look incredibly cute. "Good morning. What are you doing awake? It's not late, is it?" she asked, now completely alert and a bit alarmed.
"No, no, it's early. It's just I am such a morning person," he joked. She laughed.
"It'll be that," she said with a grin, snuggling even closer to him. "Mmmh, you're so warm … I like waking up beside you, Ron."
"Me too," he said, content. "Did you sleep well?"
"Better than ever," she answered, smiling at him.
"Good."
Hermione moved once more, and then her right leg, which was over Ron's, bumped against his cock, making Ron groan.
"Oh," said Hermione. And before Ron could say or do anything, she moved her right hand and cupped him through his pyjama trousers.
"Fuck, Hermione …"
"Mmmh, Ron, you're very hard."
"And that is a surprise?" he asked, trying not to moan while she stroked him.
"Do you want to do something about it?" she asked, a hint of lust in her voice.
"Merlin, yeah!"
Hermione dove under the covers at once. Ron frowned, confused, but his expression changed completely when he felt her yank down his trousers and pants and engulf his cock into her hot mouth.
"Holy fuck, Hermione! Merlin, yes!" he moaned, letting his head fall onto the pillow. He enjoyed her mouth on him for almost a minute, and then lifted the sheets so he could watch her. He looked down and saw her head bobbing up and down his cock, her face hidden by her hair. Ron moved his right hand and parted it so he could see her sucking him. The image of her bobbing up and down his cock, despite familiar, was as amazing as the first time. "Oh, oh, yeah, Hermione, suck it! Fuck, I love you sucking my cock."
She made a pause to reply, "and I love doing it," before engulfing him again.
"Fuck, yes! Do it harder, please, take it deeper," he begged, caressing her head. Hermione responded by kneading his balls and sucking him harder and faster, apparently intending for him to cum. "Hermione, fuck, if you keep at it that way I'm gonna —"
"Cum?" she finished for him, her hand taking the place of her mouth on his shaft.
"Yeah, and as amazing as that would be I'd rather be inside you again."
"Sorry, Ron, but I feel a bit sore down there," she said apologetically, looking up at him. "My mouth or my hand will have to do."
"Oh, well, then, be my guest. Suck me off. Have your breakfast," he said lustfully. He was a bit disappointed, but well, cumming in her mouth was almost as hot and, in a way, naughtier.
"Mmmh, yes, I love your yummy cream," she moaned in a way that sent shivers down his body and made his cock twitch in her hands. She took him back in her mouth and resumed her frantic sucking.
It didn't take long for him to reach the point of no return, and he began to buck his hips, trying to get more of his cock in her hot, fantastic mouth. Hermione moaned appreciatively around him and sucked harder, looking so hungry for his spunk that it almost sent him over the edge. "Oh, oh, fuck, Hermione, yes, keep sucking it like that, I'm almost there … Oh, fuck, almost there!"
Hermione moaned louder around him, causing his balls to tingle pleasurably and moved her tongue even faster, lavishing his cockhead every time she bobbed up. He felt his cock twitch and swell, announcing his impending release. "OH, fuck, almost there, Hermione! Gonna cum! Fuck, Gonna cum!"
He clenched his fists tightly when his cock began to fill his girlfriend's mouth with his thick, hot semen, and feeling her suck even harder and swallow him only made his orgasm stronger.
"Fuck!" he swore half a minute later, trying to regain his breath. Hermione was still sucking him, only more slowly and softly, cleaning him completely and sending pleasurable chills down his spine. "Merlin, Hermione …"
"Did you like it?" she asked, releasing his cock and sliding up the bed.
"No, I loved it. What about you?"
"You know I did," she smiled, licking her lips seductively. "You taste good, Ron. I love sucking your cock. I love drinking your cum."
"Holy shit, woman, keep talking that way and you'll be able to suck it again in no time," he growled.
"Mmmh, I wouldn't mind at all," she declared, her tone coyly, as she moved up the bed to kiss him. Fuck, he was a lucky sod, that was for sure.
"And what about you?" he asked, when they pulled apart. "Are you too sore to be licked?"
"Never," she said eagerly, her tone turning Ron on. Without a pause, she took off her pyjama bottoms and panties and lay down on the bed, spreading her legs and revealing her perfect pussy to him. The enticing view reminded Ron of how good his cock had felt inside that tight place, and it twitched, again completely hard despite how good he had come.
"Ron, don't make me wait," Hermione said impatiently.
Fuck, she's gonna drive me mad.
"Eager, are we?" he teased, moving to kneel between her open legs.
"Unnh, yes, Ron. Come on, eat me. Do it," she demanded sounding more than a bit desperate. Ron loved seeing her like that and moved to kneel between her open legs, his eyes fixed on his favourite part of her. He began to caress her inner thighs with soft, slow strokes.
"Stop staring and get to it!" she ordered, her voice dripping with need.
He looked at her face. "I love it when you get so bossy, and being bossy about me going down on you … fuck, it's hot."
"Ron," she said warningly.
Not wanting to make her angry at him, he lay down on his front between her spread legs and began to kiss her inner thighs, giving her the occasional playful bite. She moaned wantonly, the sound piercing his soul like a hot knife and sending shivers down his spine.
"Ron, please," she begged. He could see her pussy glistening with her juices, open for him. His cock twitched against the bed. "Don't tease me, just — just get to it!"
"As you want, love," he muttered, and then complied with her desires and buried his face in her pussy, giving her a long lick from down to top, savouring her juices. Hermione, more than moaning, let out a cry of pleasure, grinding her crotch against his face. Ron, spurred by her reaction, thrust his tongue inside her and began to move it in and out as he would with his cock, using his long nose to brush her clit at the same time. Hermione was now completely out of control, thrashing on the bed. She moved her hands to his head, grasping his hair, and pushed him harder against her.
"Ah, yes, that's it, Ron, that's it. Eat me … Eat me …"
Ron groaned into her wonderful pussy, his head spinning due to being surrounded by her thighs, her scent and her taste and having his face tickled by her trimmed curls.
Heaven.
He kept licking her for a bit, sliding his hands under her soft bum and squeezing her supple cheeks. Hermione moaned, whispering encouraging words to him while she kept her hands firmly on his head, clearly relishing the control.
"Oh, oh, Ron … just there … just there … Ah, fuck, keep going, keep going!"
Ron looked up at her, at her closed eyes, her tilted head, her mouth open in pleasure. Seeing her so free, so wanton, and remembering her previous bossiness, he had a sudden idea that made his cock twitch even more.
He stopped fucking her with his tongue and tried to move his head away from her sex, which wasn't easy because, the moment she stopped, she let out a moan of protest and just pushed his head harder onto her.
"Ron, don't stop!" she demanded, looking down at him, her expression annoyed and needy. "Go back to work!"
Ron used his hands to grab hers and free his head and knelt on the bed, looking at her. "Love, you must know I love eating your pussy —"
"Well, keep doing it, then!" she insisted, trying to put her hands back on his head.
"But," he said emphatically, restraining her, "as you're so bossy about it, I thought you may want to do it a bit — differently."
She stopped fighting him. "Differently?" she asked, frowning
Ron moved to her side and lay down on his back next to her.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, a deep scowl on her face. "I sucked you off and I need —"
"Ride my face."
"— you to — WHAT?" she asked, when she realised what he had said.
"Ride my face, Hermione, that way you can move the way you want, like when you rode my cock last night. Use me, fuck my face and make me eat your pussy."
Hermione stared at him, open-mouthed, but Ron could see that she was considering the idea, imagining it … and turning her on.
"But — that's —" she protested, the shyer part of her taking over.
"If you want your delicious pussy eaten, you'll have to ride my face, Hermione. I really want you to, and I know you want to."
Hermione looked at him for a few seconds and then her lust took over once more. She got up on her knees and straddled his chest, looking down at him hungrily.
"Scoot down a bit, so your head is not on the pillow and I can put my hands on the headboard," she instructed him.
"As you want," he said, complying with her request.
Still a bit unsure, Hermione moved forward until her pussy was over his face. She put her hands on the headboard and stilled for a moment. "You like the view, Ron?" she asked cheekily. Without waiting for a response she lowered herself onto his face slowly.
Ron felt his cock throb at the image of her descending cunt and licked his lips.
"It's mouth-watering," he responded just before her pussy made contact with his face. She held herself so not to sit completely on his face and he took out his tongue and put it inside her, savouring her flowing juices. Hermione let out a loud moan, and them began to move, tentatively at first, rubbing her clit against his nose. After a few goes she seemed to get the gist of it and began to move faster and harder, her moans increasing in volume. She was using his face to get off and Ron was loving it.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" she cried in pleasure. "Fuck me with your tongue, Ron, use it, put it as far inside me as you can!"
Ron did that, trying to tongue-fuck her as good as he was able to. He moved his hands to her ass and began to knead and squeeze her cheeks, encouraging her.
"Oh, fuck, yes … Like that, just like that … Keep going, Ron … don't stop. Don't stop!"
Ron redoubled his efforts, and Hermione put more of her weight on him, trying to get as much pleasure from him as she could.
"Oh, yes, yes! Fuck, Ron, I love your nose, I love you tongue! Merlin, I'm almost there … almost there! Ah, gods …!"
Ron could only moan, the sounds muffled by her wet pussy. She was moving rather fast now, really close to what it promised to be an earth-shattering orgasm, so, despite being in need of proper breathing, he moved his tongue as best as he knew, wanting nothing more than to see her come undone.
He gave her a slap on her ass, and Hermione, letting out a cry of pleasure, orgasmed all over his face.
"OH, FUCK, RRROOON! I'M COMING! Oh, Merlin, I'm coming all over your face! Please, don't stop, don't stop with your tongue! Oh, yes, yes, yes!"
Finally, Hermione stopped moving, still sitting on him, panting hard and shaking a bit. Ron gave her a last lick and pushed on her ass, because he really needed air. Hermione, understanding what he wanted, moved away from him and dropped onto the bed by him, an expression of pure contentment etched upon her beautiful face.
"Was it good, then?" he asked, propping himself on one elbow and looking at her, a grin on his face.
"Oh, Merlin, yesss," she sighed blissfully. "It was amazing, Ron. Amazing." She opened her eyes, looked at his soaked face and her cheeks turned pink. "Oh, sorry," she said sheepishly, blush creeping up her cheeks. "You're — well, covered in my — my —" she shook her head, unable to keep talking. Ron laughed.
"Don't worry about this, Hermione, you know I love your taste. It was fantastic, seeing you so wanton, taking what you wanted from me. It was a real turn on."
"Yeah, I notice," she nodded towards his tented pyjama bottoms, a small smile on her face.
Ron moved closer to her and lowered his head to hers, kissing her full on the mouth and making her taste herself. She didn't seem to mind, because she intensified the kiss and thrust her tongue into his mouth, seeking his. She moaned against his lips.
Ron put his left hand on her bare hip and then moved it towards her ass, caressing her skin. He gave her a squeeze and Hermione moaned louder. Then, he felt her hand on his crotch and it was him who had to stifle a moan.
"Want to come again?" she asked him, kissing him along his jawline.
"Fuck, yeah, Hermione …"
"Lie down," she instructed, and he complied immediately. Hermione moved so her upper body was resting on his chest and continued kissing him. Meanwhile, her wandering hand slide down his pyjama bottoms and his pants and began to stroke his hard dick softly.
"Mmmmh," he moaned. He manoeuvred his right arm under her, so he could caress her back with his right hand while pressing her against him. As the kiss grew in intensity and Hermione's handjob became faster and harder, Ron moved his hand to her bare bum, squeezing it. He pressed her against him and spread his own legs so she could straddle his right one without hampering the glorious movement of her hand. He could feel her still wet and hot sex against his thigh, and she seemed to like the feeling, too, because she began to rock her crotch against him and kissed him harder. The combination of feelings made Ron thrust against her hand, which was now moving very quickly.
"Fuck, Hermione," he said, breaking the kiss so he could moan and breathe properly. "Keep going. Wank me hard … Fuck, I wanna cum …"
"Yes, Ron," she whispered huskily while biting his earlobe. "Come for me. Come all over my hand. I want to feel you throbbing and spurting, I love it when you explode, it's so, so sexy …"
"Holy fuck, Hermione!" he groaned, turned on beyond measure due to the way she had ridden his face and was now talking. If she liked him cumming, certainly he could it as much as she wanted! Realising the moving her hand under his pants was obstructing her movements, he lifted his bum off the bed and used his free hand to lower his trousers and pants a bit. He saw Hermione look down at him in her hand, a look of lust in her brown eyes. He kissed her cheek lovingly. "Mmmh, like that, like that," he whispered, feeling her hand move more freely and more quickly now that his cock was out. "Oh, shit, I'm almost there!"
"Cum for me, Ron. Let it all out!" she practically ordered, her voice filled with excitation and arousal, and Ron couldn't help it. The moment her words left her mouth, he bucked his hips harder, squeezed her ass and his cock exploded, covering her hand and his groin area with white pearls of cum.
"Fuuuuck, yes, YES!" he screamed, overwhelmed by pleasure. Hermione's hand didn't stop, but kept jacking him off while he finished, making sure there was nothing left before releasing him. Then, making sure he was watching her, she lifted her hand to her mouth and began to lick her fingers, her gaze locked with his. Ron felt he could cum again. "Hermione, love," he said, panting. "If you want to leave this bed, you'd better stop being so hot and naughty.
Hermione, for an answer, kept licking her hand until all his cum was gone, then, smiling at him, gave him a peck on his lips, allowing him a brief taste of himself. "I love your taste, Ron," she said. "And besides, as you said yourself, I've got a naughty side that only you know … and I rather like it."
"Fuck, so do I," he said, kissing her again.
She put her head on his chest and sighed happily. "I like this, Ron. I'd be happy to wake this way every day."
"Merlin, me too," he responded quickly. "That'd be awesome."
"Not just for the sex, though that part was certainly amazing. I'd be happy just lying like this, hearing your heart inside your chest, feeling your warm body next to mine, or entwined with mine. I love you," she finished, moving her hand to the other side of him and hugging him to her.
Ron felt his entire body tingle with a warmth that had nothing to do with the sexual release he'd just had. He caressed Hermione's hair and kissed the top on her head. "I know. I love you too. So much."
They remained silent for a while, both of them enjoying the company, until Ron spoke again. "Do you — do you think that if I hadn't been such a prat and had asked you to the Yule Ball, that we would have become a couple sooner?"
Hermione looked up at him, obviously surprised by the question.
"It's just — all the time we lost …" he said sadly. "All that stupid jealousy … I mean, with Vick— I mean, Krum, and — and Lavender …" he trailed off.
Hermione didn't answer immediately.
"I don't know," she said at last. "Maybe. Or maybe we just weren't ready for this, Ron. Maybe we needed to be with other people, however briefly, to realise what we really wanted, to grow up a bit. Seeing you with her hurt, Ron," she confessed. "It hurt a lot, especially after I had asked you to the party, but — I prefer to think that it was what you needed at the moment, that you needed to sort out yourself before being able to be with me. I understand you've got insecurities, and I do because I've got them, too. But now, you seem a bit more confident, and I like that. Don't get me wrong," she added quickly, "I like that you are a down-to-earth guy, that you're not some pompous git like McLaggen, for example. But I'm glad that you are more self-confident, especially —" she blushed, "especially in bed. But it shows itself in other aspects of your life, too, and I love that." She looked into his eyes. "I love you, Ron, with your virtues and your flaws and I wouldn't change you for anything or anyone."
"Merlin, Hermione …" he said, feeling a lump in his throat. "I — I love you, too. And just so you know, you've got nothing to be unsure about. I mean, you're Muggleborn, you hadn't heard about Magic until six years ago and you're top of the class. You're caring, and kind, and though you don't spend time putting make-up on your face or straightening your hair or choosing what to wear, you're the sexiest witch I've ever seen."
"Including veelas?"
"Including veelas," he assured, laughing.
"Good," she said and kissed him sweetly. "If you love my naughty side," she commented, retreating a bit so she could look into his eyes, "let me tell you I like this sweet side of yours no one gets to see but me."
"Well, just know that if you'd ever tell anyone — especially my brothers — that I've got a 'sweet side,' I'll swear upon my life that you're lying. Merlin, it would be like a Christmas gift come early to them. Gits."
Hermione laughed. "I promise I won't tell anyone."
"Good."
They fell in a comfortable silence again. "You really should go to your room," she said after a while.
"Yeah …"
"But I don't want you to. I like you here."
"I like it here."
With an effort, Hermione got up, giving Ron and excellent view of her naked round ass, and took her wand. She pointed it at Ron's groin and muttered a cleaning charm to vanish the dried cum off him. He tucked his cock back into his pants and put his pyjama trousers back up. Hermione cast a charm on herself and put her panties and pyjama bottoms on.
"We can still sleep for a bit," she said, glancing at the clock.
"That'd be nice, though I'll miss you," he said, getting off the bed.
"I'll miss you too," she replied, getting on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. "See you in a while," she muttered softly.
"See you," he said, kissing her back.
"You should wash your face before going to bed," she advised, smiling sheepishly.
"Mmmh, I like it just like that. It might help me dream about your tasty cunt," he joked.
Hermione laughed, though her cheeks got a bit pink.
"I love you, Hermione."
"I love you, Ron."
— o —
Ron had woken up, after taking a nap (a long nap, he had noticed) and was combing his hair in the bathroom when a horrible noise came up from the living room. Terrified, he grabbed his wand and, exiting the bathroom, bolted down the stairs as quickly as he could, wand pointing forwards. "Who's —?" he began to yell, ready to curse whatever or whomever had got into the house, but stopped dead when he saw that the noise was coming from a strange device Hermione's dad was moving over the floor.
"Good Lord!" Hermione's dad shouted, shocked and a bit alarmed, his eyes wide open and fixed on his menacing wand.
"Ron!" Hermione yelled from the kitchen door. "What are you doing?"
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he apologised, looking down and feeling his ears burning in utter embarrassment. "I heard the noise and I just — I thought — Sorry," he tried to explain, his heart still beating hard in his chest
"It's okay," Hermione said, approaching him quickly and grabbing his hand in a reassuring manner. "It's just a vacuum cleaner, you know. It's used to clean the floor."
He just nodded, avoiding the eyes of both Grangers. Finally, he gathered the courage to look up at Hermione's dad, who was still looking at him, astonished. "I'm sorry, Mr Granger," he apologised again. "I didn't pretend to scare you. I just — never had heard something like that — thought it could be someone attacking …"
"It's — It's all right, Ron," Hermione's dad muttered at last. "No harm done." He smiled at him, though in an odd way. "In fact, I suppose it's a good thing you're so quick. We won't have to worry about thieves while you're here," he tried to joke, though he sounded a bit off.
"Yeah," said Ron, nodding and feeling like the greatest idiot on Earth.
"Dad, I told Mum I would clean the house," Hermione said with a hint of exasperation in her voice. "I can do it in a second, you know."
"Habit, dear," he said, and touched a button that made the vacuum cleaner stop making that horrible noise.
"Ron, breakfast is ready. Are you hungry?"
"Er — yeah," he nodded. He would have said that he had worked up an appetite last night and that morning, but he was still too embarrassed to do so. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said while they walked to the kitchen.
"Don't worry, Ron. I admit that thing makes a lot of noise, it's completely normal that it scared you. Forget it, okay?" she asked, giving him a peck on his lips.
Ron just nodded.
After breakfast, Hermione's dad turned to Ron. "Well, if Hermione's gonna do the cleaning, and I get a free morning, do you want to see my motorcycle, Ron?" he asked him.
"Motorcycle?"
"Yes, it is a vehicle, you know —"
"Oh, I know what it is," Ron said. "Sirius Black had one of those."
"Sirius Black? Harry's godfather, you mean?"
"Yeah," nodded Ron. "It was magically enhanced, though. It flies."
"Flies?"
"Yes."
"God, that would make it fantastic!" Mr Granger said dreamily.
"Oh, William," Hermione's mother said, in the same exasperated tone Hermione used with Harry and Ron. "You're forty-five, that thing with that motorcycle … I hate it."
"It's fun," he said, and for a moment Ron was reminded of his own father and his liking of Muggle devices. "I could show Ron how to ride it."
"WHAT!?" shrieked Hermione, looking at her dad disbelievingly. "Don't you dare, Dad! I don't want to explain to Ron's parents why his son is at St Mungo's with a cracked skull, thank you very much."
Ron scowled at Hermione. "What, you don't think I could learn how to ride one of those?"
"Yeah," her dad piped in, nodding. "Give the boy some credit."
"Have I to remind you that the first time you tried it you ended up under it?" Hermione replied. "And Ron hasn't even ridden a bicycle before, so —"
"But I drove a car!" he defended himself.
"You did?" Hermione's mum asked, surprised.
"Yeah," he nodded, ignoring Hermione's glare, which clearly meant he should shut up. "My father used to have a Ford Anglia — magically modified, or course, but still," he explained, not mentioning the fact that he had used it to break Magical Law and drive it to Hogwarts.
"Well, anyway, I'll show it to him. We don't have to drive it," H said, and got up. "Coming, Ron?"
"Er — I could help Hermione with the cleaning. I'm not good with those spells, mind you, but still —"
"Don't worry, Ron. You go with Dad and have fun. Just — just don't get yourself hurt."
"I won't," he said, a bit exasperated himself. Seriously, he wasn't that daft, was he?
He followed Mr Granger to the backyard and then to the spacious garage, where, besides their two cars, he had his motorcycle.
"This is it," he said, smiling with glee. "My Harley. My pride and joy — besides Hermione, that is."
"Harley?"
"Harley-Davidson," Mr Granger said. "The maker's brand."
"Ah, I understand. Like Nimbus."
"Nimbus?"
"A brand of flying brooms."
"Yes, I suppose it's the same."
"I like it," Ron said, caressing the soft metal. "This is where you sit, isn't it?" he asked, pointing at a soft leather thing.
"Yes. And then you grip the handlebars for support and for steering."
"I don't think it's very different that mounting a broomstick," Ron commented.
"Well, the motorcycle is way heavier, I reckon. As Hermione was glad to remind me, the first time I used it I ended up under it," he recounted, and laughed. When he stopped, his expression became suddenly serious and he just looked at the motorcycle for a while, apparently deep in thought. Ron just stood there, a bit puzzled. He was going to say something when Hermione's dad looked at him, right into his eyes, and asked, "Ron, what did you two do last night?"
Ron felt his blood turn into ice in his veins and his eyes became the size of saucers. Unable to speak, he just stood completely still, more scared than he had ever felt in his entire life.
Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! Ronald Weasley, you're completely daft! You should have realised this whole motorcycle thing was just a trap! But you didn't and fell into it like the idiot you are. Oh, Merlin, Hermione's father is going to rip my bollocks off!
"Er —" he spluttered, his hands sweating, his ears hot. "I don't know what you — I mean — we didn't — we aren't —"
"Oh," Mr Granger said, his own eyes opening wide. Just two letters. Oh. In that instant, Ron wished he knew a spell that could make him vanish without a trace, that he had his Apparition license, or even that You-Know-Who materialised right there and cast the Killing Curse at him. Anything would be better than this.
"I —" Hermione's dad breathed deeply and covered his face with his hands, trying to compose himself. "I wasn't asking you about — about whether you've had — sex — with my daughter, Ron," he managed to say, lowering his hands and looking at him.
He wasn't? Oh, fuck, fuck, bloody fucking fuck! Well done, you moron! Shit, even if her father didn't kill him, Hermione surely would. In any case, he wasn't going to survive this day.
"And we aren't!" he affirmed quickly. Too quickly. "I mean, we didn't!" he assured, knowing his ears were completely red.
Mr Granger shook his head, letting out a soft chuckle. "Ronald, don't bother. Your expression was as good as a confession." Ron just stood there, almost trembling, pleading the earth to swallow him whole. Hermione's dad sighed again. "It's — it's okay," he said finally, and Ron looked at him open-mouthed.
"It — it … is?" he dared to ask, his voice low and hoarse as he stared at the older man in disbelief.
"Well, it is not as if we didn't suspect it," her dad confessed, shrugging. "She brought you here as her boyfriend, and you're both seventeen …" He looked down. "I was a teenager too once, Ronald, and I went to university in the seventies. I remember that time very well, so we — Jane and I — knew what could happen with Hermione spending most of her time in a school full of teenagers." He made a pause, his expression thoughtful, as if he wanted to say something and didn't know how. "Look, Jean's parents were very conservative, you know? The first time I stayed at their house I was twenty-three and we had to sleep in separate bedrooms. I found that ridiculous, because well, we already had — well, had had sex. Lots of times, in fact, and we weren't, by any means, each other's firsts."
Oh, fuck, oh fuck, I'm hearing about Hermione's parents' sex life. Merlin, just kill me!
"So you see," Mr Granger continued, ignorant of how uncomfortable Ron was feeling, "I promised myself that when I had children I wouldn't forget what it is to be young and in love, that I would be open-minded. And I am, only I didn't know it would be that hard." He let out a mirthless laugh. "I suppose that, despite knowing full well that Hermione is a woman now, and a rather mature one, to me she will always be my little child."
Ron stared at him, not really knowing what to say. Did this mean that her father was okay with them having sex? Or not? They had been put in separate bedrooms, after all … What did that mean?
"I want her to enjoy life, Ron. And I know that sex is part of that, especially when you're in love. And she's in love with you, that I know for sure, and I hope you do as well."
"I do," Ron was quick to assure. "I know she loves me and I — I love her, too."
"I know," Hermione's dad said, nodding. "I know you care about her. I mean, when in her second year she had that accident, your headmaster told us in a letter that you and Harry had killed the thing that had hurt her. And you were — what? Twelve?"
"I was thirteen; Harry was twelve," he explained. He didn't know the Grangers knew about Hermione being petrified, though it was evident they didn't know all the story.
"And yet you did that. For her," her father stated.
Well, it hadn't been exactly that way. He had gone to Aragog's lair for her, though, so he supposed in the end Mr Granger was right, in certain way.
"I'd do it again. I'd do anything for her."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that. And I suppose there's no point in you sleeping in the guest room after all. We — well, we put you there because we didn't know if you —" He left the sentence unfinished. "And at Hogwarts you sleep in different bedrooms, don't you?"
"Yeah."
"Well, we were playing it safe. But I suppose you can move your things to her room. There's no point in sneaking."
Fucking hell! Hermione's dad is giving me permission to sleep with her daughter in his house! he thought, baffled. But then he realised he would have to tell Hermione he had involuntarily told her father they had had sex and felt afraid once more. Well, he'd deal with that later. Right now he felt like he needed to say something.
"Mr Granger … I just — I want to say that I didn't mean to disrespect your house, or taking advantage of Hermione, I really, really love and respect her and —"
Hermione's dad laughed. "Oh, Ron, I think we both know that whatever you did, Hermione was an active part of it. I don't think anyone can make her do anything she doesn't want to."
"Yeah," he nodded, smiling. "She's the bossy one."
"That she is," her dad agreed. "Well, just one last thing and we'll never have to mention this again," he added. "You — you're being safe, aren't you?" he asked. "I mean, we had a talk with Hermione years ago about contraception, but —"
"Yes, yes, of course we are," Ron said quickly, reddening again.
"Well, that's it, then."
They fell silent for a whole minute, which Ron used to calm himself and breathe, and then Mr Granger spoke once more, "Ron, what I meant when I asked you what you did last night is — well, I overheard you talking yesterday before lunch, while you two were in the backyard."
At first, Ron didn't understand what he was referring to, but the it suddenly came to him and the nervousness came back with full force.
"Oh," he just said, lost at words.
Hermione's dad looked at him. "Look, I know that neither Jean nor I understand completely your world, but we're not daft. I know that Hermione has been keeping things from us."
"Er — has she?" he said, trying to sound surprised.
Mr Granger threw him a pointed look. "Last year, she came home with a list of potions she had to take. She told us she had been sick, but she didn't look sick. She looked as in pain sometimes, as if she had been hurt. I didn't give it a lot of importance, but when I think about it in context …"
Ron just stood there, afraid to even blink.
"I mean, her getting hurt wasn't entirely unexpected. When she visited us, Professor McGonagall explained that, despite all security measures, accidents at Hogwarts are frequent, what with hundreds of untrained wizards and witches. I won't lie and say we weren't a bit afraid of sending her there, but well, she really wanted to go and, after all, we had seen the strange things that tended to happen around her, and knew Magic was part of her and it was better if she controlled it.
"And those first Christmas, when she came home, we knew we had done the right thing, because there was a spark in her eyes that hadn't been there before. She was happy, Ron, truly happy, and she had true friends."
Ron looked down, feeling suddenly bad about the things he had thought — and said — about Hermione the first weeks they had met each other. And yet, in the end he had become part of the reason why she was happy, wasn't he?
"She was so ecstatic! And she wanted us to know everything. She used to show us her textbooks, tell tales about how History had been influenced by the existence of Magic, show us pages of The Prophet … all those things. She even told us all about Harry and that wizard, Lord don't-know-what who killed his parents. And about you, of course, and how it was to be friends with someone that had been raised in the Wizarding world.
"During her first four years things went that way, but then, something changed. She started coming home less, spending her time at Hogwarts or at your house —" Ron opened his mouth, maybe to apologise for that, but Mr Granger shook his head. "No, no, we understood it. She was part of another world and was becoming an adult and getting her own life. We see her scores, Ron, we know she's so good at Magic —"
"She's the best," piped in Ron. "The best of our year. The best of the whole school."
"Yes," nodded her dad. "And we knew that, besides us, there was nothing for her in the Muggle world. That change, seeing her a bit less, we could accept, but that wasn't the only thing that changed.
"After her fourth year, her letters became much less explicit. She no longer showed us textbooks or the Daily Prophet. In fact, she used to leave a stack of old newspapers here, but, despite I knew she's still receiving it, she hasn't left any new one. And then, well, she always worried about Harry, normal, seeing how horrible his relatives are, but we could tell she was worrying much more. And since last year, we have been hearing about these strange accidents and deaths, and now there's this odd mist everywhere …"
Oh, fuck! Does Hermione know her father suspects much more than she's told them? And why is he telling me all this? He should talk to her. What the hell I'm gonna say?
"And yesterday I heard you talking about protective spells or something like that, and about doing it at night. And I saw your faces when you heard the news about that dead family and the way Hermione changed the subject." He fell silent, as if waiting for Ron to say anything, but Ron didn't. What could he say? Bloody hell, Hermione should be here, not him!
"I can put two and two together, Ron. I know there are bad wizards and witches. I mean, I remember perfectly that blonde man in Diagon Alley four years ago, the one that got in a fight with your father. Afterwards, while we were in the pub, he explained to us how some wizards don't like Muggleborns; how they hate people like my daughter. And in one of the books Hermione showed us years ago, the one that mentions Harry, it's explained that the murderer of his parents believed in the supremacy of the purebloods, and that, though he had disappeared, no one knew for sure that he was dead.
"And you see, suddenly Hermione starts worrying more about Harry, comes home much less time and when she does she has been hurt and she lies to us, or, at least, she hides things from us. You come home through the fireplace instead of the Hogwarts Express, you talk about magical protection and you think someone might be attacking the house when you hear the vacuum cleaner. I know something's going on, Ron, something really bad."
Ron lowered his gaze, brushing one of his feet against the other.
"That family, the one in the news — they were murdered by wizards, weren't they?"
Ron looked up. "I — well, it's possible, I can't be sure —"
"You told me you cared for Hermione, Ron."
"And I do!" he exclaimed.
"So do I. She's my only daughter. I have the right to know if she's in danger."
Ron looked down again, cursing his luck. What should he say? Hermione's dad had a point, but it wasn't his tale to tell, was it? And her parents might be okay with Hermione going to Hogwarts before, but would they if they knew that there was a war going on, a war in which she had already taken part? That she had almost died because of it?
"Mr Granger I — I think you should talk to Hermione. I —"
"So she's in danger," Mr Granger deduced, and let out a sigh.
"No, I didn't say that, I just —"
"If she wasn't, you would have said so," Hermione's dad argued, and sat down on a stool, sighing again. He looked at Ron, a hard expression on his face. "Tell me what's happening, Ron. Tell me why my daughter, whom I've always trusted completely, is lying to us."
Ron's hands were sweating profusely. How could he escape this?
"I — I don't want Hermione getting mad at me," he admitted.
"Shit!" Hermione's dad swore, almost making Ron jump. He had never heard anyone from the Granger family swear before — well, except for Hermione when they were —
Wrong line of thought! his mind protested.
"I've got the right to know!" her dad added, angry and frustrated.
"Mr Granger, she — she just wants to protect you."
"Protect us?" he asked, frowning. "Do you mean we're in danger, too?
"Er —"
"Are we?" he insisted. "Maybe you think I don't deserve to know if Hermione's in danger or not, but I suppose you won't deny me I've got every right to know about my own life or my wife's!"
Ron sighed. Hermione was going to kill him for this.
"You aren't," he said. "Hermione and I — well, we put an ancient protective spell around the house. As long as one of us is alive, our magic will prevent anyone from harming you in your home."
Not completely true, but well …
"'One of us'?" Hermione's dad asked, a bit shocked. "You mean you were part of that — that spell?"
"It's stronger that way," Ron explained.
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why did you do that? I mean, I understand the reason Hermione did, but why you?"
Ron blinked a few times. "I told you, I care for her. You and your wife are her parents. I know we're not — married or anything," he added, feeling his ears grow hot, "but you're family, and if there's something we Weasleys are serious about, is family."
"Oh," her father said, his anger diminishing a bit. It was clear he didn't expect that answer. The two of them fell silent for a few moments, and then he asked, "so — we're in danger, then. Why? We know nothing about your world. The only contact we have with wizards is with your family."
"You are Hermione's parents. And Hermione, besides Muggleborn, is the best friend of Harry Potter," Ron explained. "Your suspicions are correct, Sir. You-Know-Who, the wizard that killed Harry's parents, was not dead. He came back a year and a half ago. And now he wants to kill Harry, and then take over the Wizarding world. Well, in fact, he wants to take over everything. And he's especially hateful against Muggleborns." Ron shook his head. "I never understood why. I mean, if anyone deserves Magic is Hermione. She knows more Magic sleeping than Harry and I do in our most brilliant day," he said with a little smile. He made a small pause before continuing, "Anyway, we're at war. Not a full-scale war, you know, but things are going that way. Hermione and I have been hurt fighting You-Know-Who's followers in the past. You were right, Mr Granger, Hermione wasn't sick; she was hurt by a curse. I was attacked, too, and Harry … Harry lost his godfather."
"He was killed?" Hermione's dad asked, horrified and — Ron noticed — very afraid.
"Yeah," nodded Ron.
"But — but you're only teenagers," Hermione's father said, his voice trembling. "You shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't be fighting!"
"No, we shouldn't, but that's how things are. There's a prophecy that says Harry is the only one to destroy You-Know-Who, that's why he was attacked when he was just a baby, and well, he's my best friend, and Hermione's too."
Hermione's dad got up and began pacing the garage back and forth, clearly anxious, trying to take it all in.
"A war," he muttered, as if he couldn't really believe it. "My daughter's involved in a war."
"Sir, I know what you're thinking, and, to be sincere, one part of me would like to hide Hermione where she could never be hurt, too," he confessed. "But the truth is that, as I said, Harry and I would go nowhere without her help. And besides, she would never forgive us. Hermione is fiery about defending the things in which she believes. This is not just about Harry, it is about what's right and what's not. Even if she had never met him, she wouldn't hide while other people, people like her, are being abducted, or tortured or killed. During all these years she's worked so hard to be part of the Wizarding world, and no one should be able to take that from her, not some bigoted madman nor her —" he gulped and fixed his eyes on Mr Granger's, "her parents," he finished in a low voice.
Mr Granger narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything. "Besides," Ron continued, "she's of age now, you couldn't stop her from going back to Hogwarts and if you tried, she wouldn't forgive you. But I know that she loves you both very much, so please, please, don't try to convince her to hide, to stay here," he begged. "After all, that wouldn't keep her safe, either. If You-Know-Who wins, Muggles will be enslaved and slaughtered. You know what's happening, all those strange deaths and accidents are all his followers' doing, and they haven't won yet. If they do …" Ron shook his head, shuddering at the idea.
Hermione's dad wandered around for a bit, his eyes on the floor, his expression serious and thoughtful. Finally, after a while, he stopped and looked at Ron.
"That's what you think I'm going to do? Ask her to stay here? To leave the Magical world?"
Ron nodded. "I suppose that's what I'd do — or want to do, if my children were in such a situation."
"That's why she didn't tell us, did she?" her father asked sadly. "She didn't want us to take her from Hogwarts."
Ron wanted to say yes, but the truth is that he didn't really know the reason. He shrugged. "Maybe. But I think she just didn't want you to worry."
Hermione's dad sighed deeply and sat down once more. He brushed his face slowly and then looked at Ron again.
"My father was a soldier, Ron. He was just eighteen years old when he joined the army to fight in Second World War. Do you know something about that?"
"A bit," Ron nodded. "There was a war in our side then, too. Wars often don't distinguish between Magic and Muggle."
"Well, by what I get, that You-Know-Who seems a bit like Hitler. He, too, wanted to eradicate certain people just because of their birth. It didn't matter that you had never done anything, or that you were just a child. And my father fought against that. He received a shot in his right leg fighting against that and has limped because of it ever since. And yes, I'd like to protect Hermione at all costs, but she's my daughter, Ron. I know her. I raised her. Her mother and I raised her to fight for herself, to think for herself, to be her own person and to never be ashamed of doing the right thing. And despite how much I hate this, I would be deeply disappointed if she hadn't fought for the things she believes in or had abandoned her best friends when they needed her. You are right in what you said; if I tried to make her quit, I'd protect her … but I would lose her, in a way, because she would stop being the person she is. I'm too proud of her to do that to her, Ron."
"You should," Ron responded with a small smile. They both remained silent for a bit, and then Ron asked, tentatively, "so — you're not going to ask her to hide? To try and stay safe?"
"As you said, there's no safe place, is it? And she wouldn't ever comply, anyway." He took a deep breath. "This is harder than I'd imagined it would be. Yesterday she was boarding the Hogwarts express for the first time, and now she's having sex and fighting in a war."
Ron blushed again. Was it necessary to mention that little detail again?
"But the harder thing is, I think, that there's nothing we can do to help her," her dad said, his voice dripping with sadness and maybe a little frustration. "In fact, instead of being able to help my daughter, I find out that she's worrying about her parents' safety."
Ron felt the sudden impulse to pat him on his back, to reassure him a bit. It was unfair for him to be unable to help Hermione.
"The only thing her mother and I can do is to support her, so at least she doesn't have to worry about us not wanting her to be part of your world," he concluded, and fell silent, his eyes fixed on his fidgeting hands. Ron just stood there, unable to move, not knowing what else to do or to say. Then, after a bit, Hermione's dad looked up at him and asked, "can you promise me something?"
"Eh? Of — of course," answered Ron, caught by surprise.
"That you will look after her?"
Ron felt his insides get warm at the fact that Hermione's father was asking him to protect her, at the fact that he was putting his trust in him, Ron Weasley, the boy who was shagging her. He gulped and tried to sound as serious and fierce as he could. "As I told you, I'd die for her. We — Harry, Hermione and I — have always looked after each other. And it's usually Hermione the one who looks after us, but yes, I swear to you I will do anything in my power to protect her."
"Good," said Hermione's dad, nodding. "Thank you, Ron. Now let's go back inside, I think we all need to talk. Jean deserves the truth as well."
"I know," Ron said. He had wanted to escape that garage since the conversation had started, but now that he was facing the prospect of telling Hermione he had involuntarily revealed to her father that they had had sex and then told him about the war, he wished they could stay there for the rest of the day. Or the week.
"Let's go, Son," Hermione's dad said, patting him on the back. Ron just nodded and the both of them left the garage and walked towards the door. However, just before they reached the house he stopped and looked at him. "Ron …" he started to say. Ron turned his head to look at him. "I want you to know that I'm glad that it's you. Hermione's boyfriend, I mean."
"Thank you, Mr Granger," he said, feeling a lump in his throat. "That — that means a lot to me."
"I think we had agreed to forget that whole 'Mr' and 'Mrs' business," said the older man with a little smile, patting him on his shoulder. Ron just nodded, and they both went in.
I'll publish next chapter around Wednesday or Thursday, a little sooner than usually, because it could be considered a second part of this one.
Meanwhile, you can write your own stories. I remind you of the ongoing challenges:
-Dominant!Hermione
-Ron and Hermione being naughty in class.
-Ron and Hermione being naughty in the library.