Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.
A/N: *dusts off cobwebs* oh, hi, hello, it's me again! Happy New Year all! I've been slowly working on this chapter over the last month and I am thrilled to finally share it with you all. But first, I'd like to thank each and everyone of you who have read this little fic of mine and left comments/kudos - THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart. Finding writing again and the fanfiction world in 2021 was truly an unexpected gift and I am so grateful to all of you I've had the pleasure of conversing with in this little corner of the internet. Here's to 2022, and hoping it's filled with love, health, happiness, and more fics for all!
Side note, without saying too much, I must stress that this chapter has officially pushed this story to an E rating.
Thank you as always to the amazing betas/writers who continuously astound me with their own beautiful writing and endless support: accio-broom, adenei, sm_jl, be11atrixthestrange, mina_roman.
CW: Mild themes centered around depression/drinking mentioned in this chapter. My heart goes out to all who have ever struggled mentally, emotionally, physically. Just know you are loved, you are beautiful, you are important, and your feelings matter. I hope that we can continue to find the light even in the darkest of days.
With love, Cheesy xx
Sweet Home Ottery
Chapter Ten
Still caught in a new love state of mind
Just broken souls staying one in the night
All the space in between us a lie
Still torn by the way we used to be
Taking freedom over loyalty
Doing whatever, whenever we please
Yeah you push and you pull and I'm indecisive
But I can't let you go, it's wrong but it's right
Yeah the tension is high, but it's just how I like it
Yeah you always remind me
That I hate you, love you at the same time
Hurts good, but you know I don't mind
Want you even after we fight
Hate you, love you the rest of my life
Sometimes want to get up and scream
All gone when you're looking at me
Let you put your name on my sleeve
Hate you, love you the rest of my life
Hate You + Love You - Cheat Codes
Five Years Ago
One month after Ron's injury, Hermione feels like a giant pile of Dungbombs have been dropped on their relationship.
To say that Ron is struggling with his dismissal from the Auror program would be an understatement. It's like there's a dark cloud hovering over his head, preventing him from being happy. He's disoriented, lost, and has reached a level of insecurity that she hasn't seen from him since childhood.
"Everything's rubbish" seems to be his new mantra.
He doesn't want to wake up in the mornings, has lost interest in activities that he used to love — like flying — and it's even difficult for him to work up an appetite.
For Hermione, she has trouble concentrating on the simplest tasks, unable to focus on anything but her self-loathing thoughts about how ill-equipped she is to handle Ron in his current state. It's like she's drowning underwater, trying and trying to tread to the surface, just hoping that someone will pull her out of her dilemma.
Even their family and friends are starting to notice how they don't socialize much anymore, with Hermione often claiming that they don't have the energy to make eventful plans in between her work demands and Ron's recovery.
At least, it's her excuse for them not going out together.
It's half past ten in the evening, and Ron comes stumbling through the hearth. He reeks of Firewhiskey and floo powder, and Hermione can tell by his dilated pupils that he's plastered.
Anger mounts deep in her bones as she snaps the book in her lap shut before glowering at him. "And just where have you been?"
He shrugs, which does nothing but agitate her even more. "At the pub with Fred and George. They made sure I got to the floo alright, don't worry."
"Don't worry? Don't worry?" Hermione stands, her voice raising a significant amount of octaves. "All I do is worry, Ron! Why can't you see that?"
"D'ya have to yell at me right now?" He groans, rubbing the crease between his brows. "My head hurts."
"I bet it does."
Ron slings his jacket in a sloppy heap over the back of an armchair. "You missed a rather fun evening."
Hermione wastes no time flourishing her wand, sending the garment flying to its original place in the coat cupboard. "What is your problem?"
"Whass your problem?" He slurs back, trying and failing to focus his eyes in Hermione's direction. "Why you've always got a broom up your arse, HGW?"
His words are a crushing blow, sending a shockwave of pain through her chest. "You don't mean that."
"Maybe I don't." Ron's eyelids begin to droop, and his shoulders slump with regret. "M'sorry. I should go to bed."
"Perhaps you should drink some water first."
Just as Hermione takes a step towards the kitchen, Ron's dismissal brings her to a halt. "Nah, m'good."
He makes an attempt to trudge off to the bedroom, but she wraps a hand around his elbow before he can get too far. "Ron, you're not good."
With a rough tug, he pulls his arm out of her grasp, eyes blazing with fury. "I said I'm fine, Hermione!"
"You're NOT fine!" she shouts, finally fed up with his attitude. "None of this is fine! Why won't you let me help you?"
"Am I not allowed to enjoy a fun night out with my brothers?"
Fun. All she can think about is how he goes and has his fun as a means to avoid spending time with her to hash out their issues. Hermione is tired of Ron's drunken thoughts and has no energy left to fight him anymore.
"I'm going to bed."
As she walks back to their bedroom, and Ron makes no move to follow her, Hermione realizes she's quickly losing all motivation and hope for their future.
Although the grey sky doesn't boast any promises, the next morning brings with it a glimmer of hope that Hermione can finally sort out what is going on with Ron. She wakes earlier than usual, starts a pot of fresh coffee and attempts to cook a measly breakfast, consisting of the few ingredients they have left in the fridge.
By the time Hermione hears Ron's footsteps padding their way into the kitchen, she's seated at the table, having set a large glass of water, a bottle of Pepperup potion, and a plate of eggs with debatable edibility in his spot.
"G'morning," he rasps, rubbing the sleep from his red-rimmed eyes.
"Is it?" The testy comment leaves her lips before she can bite back her tongue, already annoyed at how nonchalant his greeting seems.
He doesn't respond, instead choosing to pull out his chair and tuck right into his meal without a word about the night before, or even a simple thank you. Anger bubbles to the surface, and Hermione has to fight to keep it at bay.
"You can't keep doing this, Ron. If you'd just clean up and focus on your recovery, Robards said that you could potentially rejoin-"
"Don't." He stabs his fork through the eggs before shoveling them into his mouth. Cringing, Ron swallows before wiping his mouth and pushing the plate away. "Maybe I don't want to be an Auror anymore. Clearly I'm terrible at it."
"Don't say that."
"It's true," he mumbles, taking a sip of his orange juice.
Leaning forward, Hermione attempts to take his hand only for him to pull even further away from her. "Why can't you see that I'm trying to help you?"
"You're not helping!" Ron slams his fist on the table, making Hermione jump. "You're smothering me. Just give me some bloody space."
The force of his outburst sends her body into shut down mode, like she's looking at the remnants of her previous life through a fog, wondering just how they've managed to get to this point in their relationship.
"I don't even recognize you anymore."
Ron glares at his now empty glass, clenching and unclenching his jaw in stoic silence.
Hermione waves her wand to send the dirty plates to the sink, listening as they clatter against the stainless steel. "Fine. You want your space? You've got it."
She stomps back towards the bedroom and slams the door shut with a reverberating bang. Hermione kneels under the bed to snatch her rucksack and begins to pack only the essentials. She knows she's not thinking straight, that she really should take a walk to calm down, but she can't seem to focus on anything but getting far, far away from the cottage that — although it once held only comforting memories — has recently served as a reminder of how ridiculously lonely she's felt over the past several months.
Vision blurry from the tears threatening to spill out, Hermione lifts her wand with a shaky hand and conjures up a swirling blue otter.
"Harry, I'm going to need you to come to the cottage as soon as you get this and watch over Ron for me. I won't be here when you arrive. Please don't ask any questions. I promise to owl as soon as I can to explain."
The otter trots off in search of her best friend, and Hermione doesn't take another moment to second-guess her decision. She allows the walls of darkness to envelop her, and just as she's gasping for the air she needs to breathe, she spins on the spot and away from the life she thought she'd have forever.
Present Day
Waking up is usually a simple task for Hermione, being the morning person that she is. But this morning, she groans when the sun beams in through the open window, causing her to stir.
Although the bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion is designed to induce drowsiness and prevent her from any significant dreaming, she's less than pleased to wake up with memories of the worst day of her life flooding through her mind. Her eyes feel weighted shut, but her brain is awake.
Even before she manages to open her eyes, she can hear a faint voice mixed with gentle barking coming from another room, reminding her of exactly where she is.
Right when she considers crawling out of bed, the softness of the pillow beneath her head makes her reconsider. She cradles the fluffy headrest and inhales the nostalgic scent of Ron. She's in Ron's bed. Popping one eye open, Hermione adjusts to her surroundings and is shocked to figure out that his room is what used to be their old guest room. When did he stop sleeping in their room? How did she not notice this sooner?
Her itchy and puffy eyes, in conjunction with her throbbing head, remind her of all the crying she did the night before, and thus reignites the sickening feeling in her stomach as her thoughts travel back to her father. The reality of her situation begins to set in, and with that reality brings a whole lot of self-doubt.
How positively mad she must've looked showing up at the cottage without warning in a frenzied state. Though she wasn't really prepared for such an occurrence, she also wasn't prepared to learn the news of her dad's illness. Hermione knows she will need to eventually go home and face her parents, but the idea of doing so at this very second only swirls the nausea in her belly even more.
She makes a slow attempt at sitting up and climbing out of bed as her head begins to buzz with questions. Where do we go from here? How did Ron feel about me crying in his arms last night?
With so many unknown answers, she contemplates apparating straight from the bedroom. Hermione tries to reason with herself, knowing that she's already done exactly that once before and it didn't go over well. This time she will use tact and common decency to try to navigate their delicate situation.
After tousling her hair and completing a quick breath-freshening charm, she slowly makes her way towards the common living space, still debating back and forth in her head on what she should say once she arrives. If Ron knows that she's wondering what he might be wondering — well, this all just got rather complicated.
She only hopes that she's not alone in her fear.
"Shut it, Chuds." Ron's voice echoes from the living room. "She's still sleeping."
It's time, Hermione figures, to make her presence known. "Actually, I'm not."
Ron's head swivels in her direction and he offers her a soft smile that stirs up an undefined emotion in her belly. "Ah. You're awake."
Chudley howls and leaps in her direction, greeting her with sufficient licks to her face. She scratches the friendly dog behind his ears while returning Ron's gaze. "I am."
"How did you sleep?"
The question makes Hermione's hand tense up beneath Chudley's long, caramel-colored fur. "It wasn't exactly a dreamless sleep."
"What do you mean?" Ron's brows furrow as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
"It was sleep, but filled with nothing but dreams. Are you sure that was the correct potion?"
"Of course it was!" His eyes darken, looking offended that she even asked. "Wait — wait just a bloody minute."
Ron marches out of the room and Hermione quickly follows, curiosity getting the best of her. He goes into the room where she spent the night and picks up the empty vial on the bedside table, flipping it over to read the description. He curses under his breath.
"How is this possible? Someone switched the labels."
Leaning over his shoulder, Hermione catches a glimpse. Memory Potion. A potion designed to enhance some of a witch or wizard's most vivid memories.
Well, that explains her lucid dream.
"Fred and George," Ron growls, already blaming the potential culprits. "I'll fucking kill em-"
"No, Ron." She places a steady hand on his arm. "Don't!"
His deep blue eyes soften as he studies her face. "What did you dream about?"
It's a question that was inevitable, but it still manages to catch her off guard. Where does she even begin? How honest should she be with him? Oh, nothing really, Ron, I just re-lived the day where we were both out of our minds that led to the eventual downfall of our relationship.
Dramatic? Yes. But she's afraid that the bile rising in her throat will actually spill out if she says any more.
Hermione pulls at the sleeve of her shirt as she avoids meeting Ron's prying gaze. "I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about that yet."
Ron's posture stiffens as he presses his lips into a thin line. "Well, when are you going to be ready?"
His quick change in demeanor only brings back memories of their past, and how a wonderful morning could turn into, well, this, in just a matter of seconds. Why is it that she always manages to say the wrong thing?
"What do you mean by that?"
Ron rubs both of his hands over his face. "Fucking hell, Hermione…"
"I…" She backs away, bumping into the chest of drawers behind her. "I don't think I should be here right now."
Ron's eyes go round, and he reaches out for her but she's already running out of the room. "Hermione, no, wait."
She doesn't.
Hermione spends the rest of the morning aimlessly walking by the shops in Diagon Alley, hoping that a solution would present itself and a bit troubled when it doesn't. It's still too early for many witches and wizards to be out and about, and the desolate cobblestone streets provide her with the space and time to think about the mess she's made of her life.
Without ever really processing it, she ends up finding the nearest floo and steps out of the fireplace at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. There, Harry is waiting, like he had anticipated her arrival all along.
Hermione is positive that her eyes are red and blotchy, and judging by the sympathetic expression on Harry's face, he already knows what happened.
"Hi, friend."
His voice is calming and soothing, and she races into his arms without another fleeting moment, wetting his shirt in an instant from the tears that start flowing from her eyes yet again. He gently pats her back.
"It'll be alright, Hermione."
She raises her head, sniffling. "I've ruined everything, Harry."
"I'm sure that's not true."
"It is."
"One moment." Harry withdraws his wand and begins speaking. "Ron, she's here and she's safe." He sends his stag bounding out of the window.
He offers an explanation after viewing the puzzlement on her face. "He's already flooed, owled, and sent his patronus looking for you. He just wants to make sure you are okay. It's the least I can do."
Hermione groans, stomping over to the sofa and plopping down with a heavy sigh. "I just — how can that man be so sweet and aggravating at the same time?"
Harry sits beside her, angling his head in her direction with his eyebrows raised. "I never thought I'd have to explain this to the smartest witch of our age, but...that's love. And you married him."
Hermione leans her head back against the sofa cushions, staring up at the ceiling in deep contemplation. Why does love have to be so complicated when it once seemed so easy?
"You've got a lot of shit to figure out," Harry goes on, eliciting an eye roll from Hermione.
"Yeah we've got a lot of...stuff to discuss."
Harry taps her knee, and Hermione lifts her head to meet his gaze. "Listen, I'm not entirely sure what may or may not have happened this morning, but I think Ron realizes that he acted like a git. He just needs to know you're staying this time. And you have to let him know how you feel."
Hermione can't even begin to describe what she feels, but she certainly knows that she doesn't want to feel like she'll always be chasing happiness.
Despite the dismal weather forecast later that afternoon, complete with dark grey skies and a dense fog that makes visibility quite difficult, Hermione navigates her way back to the cottage having finally reached a definitive sense of self-purpose. The air is thick with condensation, holding the promise of rain that won't simply be a drizzle, but it doesn't deter her.
Hermione approaches the front entrance, knocking her knuckles against the wood in rapid succession. The door swings wide open, revealing a startled Ron.
"I want a do-over." The words leave her lips before he even has a chance to say anything.
A scowl forms on his face. "Now you decide to use the front door?"
"I want a do-over, Ron."
"Of what?"
"Of everything — this morning, the past five years, the day I left. Everything."
Ron grips the door jamb with his hand, shoulders sagging as he averts his gaze to the ground with a loud exhale. "I can't do this anymore, Hermione. It's fucking exhausting."
Hermione tries and fails to swallow the lump in her throat, tears blurring her vision.
Obvious anguish flashes through his eyes. "Don't cry. Please don't cry, I can't-" Blowing out a deep breath, he holds the door open wider. "Look, will you just come inside? There's a storm rolling in any minute now."
The wind picks up, and a streak of lightning flashes through the sky followed by a low rumble. Hermione glances up at the dark grey clouds that look like they can burst with rain any second.
"I think I'd rather go for a walk."
As if on cue, rain begins to fall in copious quantities from the clouds as Hermione steps out of the awning designed to shield her from the torrential downpour. A pelting shower soaks her hair and clothes in an instant, but she doesn't care.
"What? Wait — Hermione!" She hears Ron call after her, but she only quickens her pace before breaking out into a run, her trainers sloshing through the excessive puddles starting to form in the muddy grass.
"Bloody...fuck…" The front door slams shut as Ron shuffles behind her.
"Are you completely mental? You're going to get yourself killed!" He yells with such force that it prompts Hermione to swivel around in the middle of the open field, wet ringlets of hair sticking to her face.
"Oh, so now you're worried about my safety? You weren't worried at all when we were eight!"
"Hermione, come on!"
"No."
Ron curls his fists by his side, eyes wild with rage. "I'm done joking around. Come on, let's go inside and-"
"No!" Hermione stomps her foot into the ground, causing water to splash up and drench her even further. "I don't want to talk anymore."
Taking a step forward, Ron's face hardens as he fixes her with a warning look. "Well, too damn bad. Because it's time for me to talk and for you to listen."
"You're delusional if you think I'm going to-"
"Shut the bloody fuck up."
Ron's disdainful sneer makes Hermione's skin prickle with anger, although it manages to silence any of her further protesting.
He gives a loud exhale of frustration. "So...we're really doing this now, aren't we? In the middle of a fucking storm?"
"About time, I suppose."
For several seconds, they stand in opposition of one another. The strong force of the rain pounding down almost stings Hermione's skin, and although it's incessant and annoying, it provides the stab of encouragement she needs to finally expel all of the hurt feelings and mistakes and utter apologies straight from her chest.
"I shouldn't have left you."
Ron's lips part. "What?"
"Five years ago. I shouldn't have left you."
For a moment, she wonders if she's said the wrong thing. Maybe she's too late, maybe she's caused too much damage that their relationship is now beyond repair, maybe he's trying to think of a way to reject her-
"And I shouldn't have given you a reason to leave."
Hermione is positive that her heart skips a beat from the words Ron expresses, and the confident manner in which he says them. Although she has been anticipating his response, she's caught off guard by the timing, and quite frankly, his feelings.
The impact is overwhelming, targeting all of her emotions like a tidal wave. A fresh batch of tears flood her eyes before cascading down her cheeks, mixing in with the raindrops still splashing on her face.
Finding the courage to take a deep breath, she lets the words flow out of her mouth.
"For so long after your accident, you were there, but you weren't the Ron I knew — the Ron I knew to always be positive, upbeat, hilarious, and supportive….happy. You weren't my Ron." Hermione places a hand over her chest in hopes of conveying the sincerity of how she feels.
"Then I started thinking-"
To her surprise, Ron snorts. "Never do that, do ya?"
Shaking her head, she tries not to let the momentary distraction deter her, although she's grateful for the small bit of comic relief. "I started thinking that maybe we were changing. Change is inevitable, isn't it? As we get older, our personalities are bound to change, and I thought, maybe that was it. Maybe my Ron had changed, and I can't blame him for that."
He takes a large stride forward, a gesture that is unnerving and intimidating, and Hermione fights her instinct to take a step back. But she can't, she won't. She's not scared anymore.
"Don't you get it?" Ron growls, the low tone of his voice sending a shiver down her spine. "I can't be that Ron without you."
He's so frustrating with his flaming red hair and messy, wet fringe stuck to his forehead. His deep cerulean eyes squint at her through the downpour, and Hermione struggles to free herself from his penetrating gaze.
"You don't know what it was like…" Hermione swallows the large lump in her throat. "To get a patronus from Harry that you had been — I thought that if we were going to have one final conversation together, why did it have to be the one we had? Then you made it through, and I still felt like I had lost you — like a part of you was gone that I could never get back."
"And you don't know what it was like to go into our bedroom and find you gone," he throws back at her, recalling the memory of the day she had left.
This is how he's truly feeling. How could she have been so blind to the truth for so long? If they had just communicated their feelings to one another five years ago, maybe….
No. She can't dwell on the past. The present is what matters, Ron is what matters, and she is going to fight like a dragon to make sure he knows that.
"I'm so angry at you — at myself — for not fighting for us!" Hermione shouts, forcefully raking her fingers through her sopping mess of hair. "How did we waste so much time?"
"I held on," Ron croaks, his eyes darkening as a pained expression takes over his face. "To that small bit of hope…"
"So did I."
Hermione withdraws her wand from her back pocket before pointing it at her bare ring finger, muttering a simple incantation as her gold band — her beautiful, wonderful expression of the love she has for Ron — reappears in its rightful place.
Ron's mouth slowly drops open as he stares without blinking at the ring positioned on her finger, likely coming to the realization that it never left. Then he does something that nearly steals all of the breath out of her lungs. He taps his wand against his matching finger, revealing his own gold band in the same exact way she uncloaked hers.
Holding his hand up with his palm facing inward, he chuckles. "I hope you remember that you were the one who taught me that concealment spell."
Hermione becomes aware of her own heartbeat as she's filled with a desperate need to ask clarification questions: what, how, why?
Ron takes a step towards her, his eyes never wavering from her face. If anything, they dare to drop down to her lips, from what she can see through the dense mist that she's constantly having to blink out of her eyes.
"Wait."
The word leaves her mouth as a subconscious response to Ron standing so close to her now. He searches her eyes for hesitation, any indication that she absolutely, truly did not want him to touch her.
Finding none, his eyes darken, the fierce look on his face telling her that he's not backing down. "Stop trying to tell me what to do."
Time slows in the few passing moments with the realization that they're on the precipice of a monumental shift in their relationship — so profound and terrifying at the same time. The thundering clouds match the pounding in Hermione's heart as she waits with bated breath for Ron's next move.
When his legs move, so do hers, faster and faster until, at last, they initiate contact between them — the contact that has been gone for far too long. Their lips fuse together in an embrace that is hypnotic beyond reason and nearly silences all of her thoughts. She can only focus on the warmth of his breath and how soft he feels against her mouth.
Hermione clings to him, nails digging into the skin of his neck, trying hard not to let her legs collapse underneath her from the sheer passion of the kiss. She wants to scream and laugh and cry tears of joy all at the same time, which only makes her press her lips against his even harder with the intention of releasing every emotion she's kept locked away inside for the past five years.
The flutter in her stomach only intensifies as her legs find their way around his waist and he seamlessly catches her, narrowing the space between their bodies. Their kisses are hungry and intense, and although the way they move together is familiar, it's different at the same time.
Of course, they've never before gone five years without any physical contact together in their entire life.
Soon they are stumbling backwards, through the sloshy water puddles and leaves that continuously get caught in Hermione's bushy curls, until Ron's crashing through the doorway of the cottage, kicking the door closed with his foot, and never once detaching his lips from hers until her back is pressed against a bare wall with a loud slam.
"I hate you so much sometimes," Ron growls against her lips, effectively boxing her in with his hands placed on either side of her head against the wall.
Taking a moment to catch her breath and dropping her feet to the floor, Hermione grabs two fistfuls of Ron's hair and forces his eyes to meet hers.
"And I love you always."
A strangled noise comes from somewhere deep in his throat, and Hermione catches the unmistakable look of affection that flickers across his face. He ducks his head low and captures her lips, once again banging her body against the hard wall as she releases a loud moan.
"Why did you leave me without giving me a say in the matter?" he mumbles, almost incoherently, against her mouth.
It's one question that Hermione leaves unanswered, instead choosing to show him how alive she feels in this moment. Everything else can wait.
Ron bucks his hips into hers, making her cry out in surprise from his eagerness tenting through his trousers. His stubble is rough against her flesh as his mouth brands the expansive skin of her cheeks, neck, and bare shoulder. Hermione's body arches against his, leaving no space as her hands claw their way up and down the wet clothing on his back that clings to his cold skin.
"Do you feel this?" The animalistic snarl comes against the shell of her ear as he pushes his hard erection into her belly while his hands travel underneath her shirt to press against the skin of her back.
The sensation makes Hermione whimper and crush her mouth to his over and over, allowing short bursts of air to filter out of her lungs.
"Fuck you," he continues to murmur in between kisses. "Fuck you."
His large, capable hands travel down the curve of her body until hooking behind her legs, hiking her up higher and higher until she's trapped against the wall, pinned by his body, making her groan with intense longing. She shivers under his touch, the way his hand burns against her thigh before traveling higher, dipping underneath the fabric of her knickers to palm her bum. His nose grazes her cheek, the only sound being their heavy breathing.
From there, clothes are shed in an intense, messy blur. Hermione grabs the hem of Ron's jumper and pulls it over his head. He follows by peeling the soaked shirt from her skin, leaving her clad in her bra, a bare stomach that's peppered with gooseflesh, and her body humming with desire.
The growing collection of clothing gathers in a pile at their feet as Ron starts pulling down her jeans before he even finishes fighting the zipper that keeps getting caught on the loose thread of her knickers. At the same time, his lips are sucking below her jaw, and Hermione is sure that her skin could burst into flames.
A surge of energy courses through her veins, mimicking the lightning that continues to streak across the sky outside. Her body shivers against his bare chest and she allows her hands to roam all over his pale, freckled skin, craving more warmth.
Ron kneads her breasts with one hand while sliding her knickers down her knees with the other. Hermione's knees instinctively clamp around his naked hips as she lowers her hand between their bodies to wrap fully around him. He hisses into her hair, thrusting forward until he's positioned at her entrance.
Ron lifts his head, detaching his lips from the slender column of her throat, panting and meeting her gaze with glazed over eyes. The desire, the want, the need to release their unresolved tension is obvious, and Hermione wants to savor this moment for as long as possible.
"I'm on the potion," she rasps, touching her forehead to his as their noses clash. "Besides, there hasn't been anyone other than you, Ron." The restless movement of her hips against his causes Ron to take a deep, shuddering breath.
It's pleasure in its purest sense, both exhilarating and agonizing at the same time, and Hermione barely has time to comprehend what they are about to do before he enters her in one swift thrust.
She arches her back to better accept him, deliberately stretching her insides and crumbling any remaining barrier of resistance. He pulls out and back in again with a driving force that matches the intensity of his kisses, stripping her of all restraint as she clenches even tighter around him.
Hermione mentally catalogues every thrust, every pulse, as he moves harder and faster like they're in a frenzied race to fulfillment. Ripples of pleasure flood her senses as the aching tension builds through her core. He enters her over and over like he's expelling out all of the anger inside of him. She can feel Ron's ragged breath against her lips as he shudders and convulses in her arms and she welcomes the release that renders her speechless.
Mutual, throaty moans fill the air as Ron rocks against her once more in a familiar rhythm before tucking his head into the crook of her neck and guiding her back down the wall until they collapse in a tangle of limbs on the floor.
They take a moment to catch their breath, slumped shoulder to shoulder against the wall, bodies sticky with the scent of sweat.
"What…the bloody fuck…was that?"
Hermione can't hold back her smile at his very Ron reaction, and she wipes the beads of perspiration from her forehead as she experiences an unnaturally intense sense of contentment —one she hasn't felt in a very long time.
Everything feels okay, and it will be okay, even if it hasn't always been okay.
Anything left unsaid is just that, and can remain that way for a little while longer as they exist together in uncontrollable happiness. Ron rains open-mouthed kisses across her silky shoulder with heart-stopping tenderness before using the crook of his finger to turn her face towards his.
They exchange a slow, sensual snog that eventually leads to Hermione climbing on top of his lap.
"'Mione…" Ron moans into her mouth, tangling his long fingers through her curls.
As she slowly slides down onto him, Hermione knows she's found her way home again.