Chapter 1: Mistress

Ron Weasley and his wife, Lavender, had gotten into a fight again, so he turned to what he normally did in such a situation: escape to the Leaky Cauldron for a butterbeer.

On this night, a Wednesday smack dab in the middle of the week, the pub was quiet, practically dead and near empty when he arrived and sat down at the bar. Hannah Abbott, the landlady, didn't ask questions as she slid a flagon down the varnished bar-top in Ron's direction; by now, he was a regular. He sipped from his drink, and tried not to knock it back too fast, despite how much he wanted to.

It seemed all he and his wife of close to fifteen years knew how to do was fight. He and Lavender had married close to a year after the Battle of Hogwarts. Much of the time leading up to their nuptials had involved reconnecting, which began when Ron started visiting her every day in St. Mungo's while Lavender was being treated for her injuries from the werewolf Fenrir Greyback. Thankfully, she hadn't been bitten – just slashed across the face – which, if Ron's brother Bill's experience was any guide, meant that she would never be a full-fledged werewolf. The biggest werewolf tendency Lavender manifested was preferring her steaks be cooked raw.

Ron sighed. If only that was the worst of his marital problems….

"Ron? Bit of a dull night to be out getting plastered, isn't it?"

Ron glanced up, and his jaw nearly dropped at the sight of her: Hermione Granger, wearing a cream business suit that hugged her impeccable figure in all the right places. It might have been that he'd been pacing himself in between conservative sips from his flagon, for when he swallowed, Ron found his throat suddenly dry, though he made no move to requench. One of his two best friends since they were children, Hermione had risen through the ranks to a highly acclaimed career in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. During the war, she and Ron had briefly explored a romance, but the spark had then fizzled. She went off to Australia to recover her parents and their memories; he had started hanging around St. Mungo's and supporting Lavender during her therapy. By the time Hermione had returned to England about a year later (sans parents, who had decided to remain Down Under and maintain their dental practice), he and Lavender had been engaged for close to six months and were weeks away from the wedding. He had managed to snag his best mate an invite, despite suspecting how Lavender wouldn't have liked it. Ron hadn't been sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved when Hermione politely declined.

Moving on from blinking dumbly at her, Ron chuckled tightly and held up his flagon. "No, just sampling."

She plopped down at the bar next to him, her hands drumming the bar-top. It gave Ron a full view, though he tried not to focus on it, of how there still was no wedding ring on her finger. "Everything OK?"

Despite how they only encountered one another now and again during work, plus the occasional meal at the Burrow, Ron was still amazed at how she could read him so well. "Not really," he opened up honestly. "It's…. Oh, it's Lavender. We had a fight."

He watched as Hermione flagged down Hannah for a flagon of her own. "About?" she hummed, sounding like her good old, proper self. He was surprised at how she accepted a glass as large as his own when Hannah rolled it down. Before he could answer, however, she eyed him with a look that might have been fear. Anxiety was strangely swimming in her chocolate-brown orbs. "You're not arguing about having a baby, are you?"

"Actually," Ron coughed. "That's exactly what we were fighting about."

Hermione appraised him up and down, face careful. "She isn't pregnant already, is she? Bringing a child into the world requires a lot of discussion and decision-making…"

"No. No, Lav's not pregnant," Ron huffed. He lowered his face to the rim of his mug. "But she wants to be."

"And you don't?" Hermione probed, one eyebrow arched curiously.

He turned to study her for a moment, with her chestnut hair down and framing her heart-shaped face. Merlin, she looks beautiful. Of course, he'd always thought so. She was rather attractive, which made him surprised (and secretly relieved) all the more that she was apparently still single.

She must have misconstrued his expression, for she suddenly flushed, so prettily that Ron felt a certain part of his anatomy tighten in his pants. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to pry…" she smiled weakly, like she was apologizing.

"No, no, it's fine!" he laughed, shaking his head. He tapped the curved handle of his butterbeer flagon for a moment. "I don't," he admitted. "Want to be a father – yet. I don't want to be a father yet. Lav figures we're not getting any younger, that her body is on a clock and all that, and I get it, but…"

Hermione's lashes fluttered as she blinked, listening intently. "But what?" she urged him to go on.

"But it's not just Lav. I'm getting it from all sides! My sister. My mum. Mum seems quite intent on trying to set the Guinness World Record for number of grandchildren; she's even practically adopted little Teddy Lupin just to add to her count…!"

Hermione threw back her head and laughed musically. Ron chortled right along with her. He couldn't remember the last time he and Hermione had engaged in a real conversation that hadn't just been a passing "Hi, Bye," in the Ministry halls or small talk around the Burrow's kitchen table on the occasion when Molly could entice Hermione into staying for dinner.

"So, what about you? Have you thought about kids?"

She hummed noncommittally as Hannah passed her a refill. "I would be very deliberate in choosing whom to have them with. Plus, I'd much rather prefer to take things in order first."

"So you're not married?" Ron asked, shifting his blue eyes down pointedly towards her left hand even though he already knew full well her ring finger was bare.

Hermione lifted her hand with a small smile and pointed to that same finger. "Not married," she murmured.

"But you've dated, at least?" Ron queried, internally kicking himself for even asking such a thing. It wasn't as though he particularly wanted to know the answer.

She snorted, knocking back a shot. "Never serious. I saw a bloke briefly down in Australia when I was trying to convince my parents to come back with me to England. It was only casual."

"Yeah, and then weren't you going out with Malfoy?" Ron struggled not to make a face, and only just barely managed to stave off disgust at the thought, lest he offend her.

Fortunately, Hermione displayed all the offense for him. "I most certainly did not! Who told you that?"

"Harry, actually, though he didn't sound sure," Ron blinked, internally letting out a breath.

Hermione tossed her brown curls, scoffing. "You boys shouldn't believe every rumor you hear. Me dating Malfoy…. what utter rot! You know he has a kid, right?"

Ron nodded. The pair continued to drink and chat, leaving Hannah to let the drinks keep coming round. No one else came into the joint, allowing for several hours of private conversation until Ron and Hermione shut the place down.

By this point, Hermione was feeling quite tipsy. Ron, however, was very, very drunk – enough that she feared allowing him to Apparate home alone. Hermione grunted as she slung one of his burly arms over her shoulder.

"To bed with you, slugger!" she chuckled, feeling him sway unsteadily into her. "Hannah, can I have a room for the gentleman?"

Hannah passed her a key, looking quite as amused as Hermione felt while leading her friend up the stairs to the second floor landing where a few rooms were available to let.

Hermione unlocked the door, and she and Ron staggered in.

"OK…. Let's get you into bed here…." Hermione's voice trailed off as she felt Ron's arm drop from her shoulder and caress down her side until it curled about her waist, his large and calloused hand now resting on her hip. Her breath hitched as she felt Ron effortlessly turn her into him so she was pressed rather intimately up against his chest.

"Ronald, what are you doing….?" Hermione's voice had fallen to a breathless whisper. She felt her heart start to pound as she peered up into the…. Oh, Merlin help her, the smoldering look in his eyes.

"You're so bloody beautiful…..!" Ron slurred, and Hermione gasped as his lips descended on hers in a fiery kiss, at the same moment she felt the hand at her waist dip lower to cup her buttocks through her business skirt.

"Mmmmmm!... Hmmmmm….." She twisted out of the liplock, turned her face away. Ron simply began pressing kisses all alone her cheeks, into the soft curve of her neck, and she let out a cry of shock.

"No, Ron, we…. we mustn't…. We mu-Mmmmmm….." His lips captured hers once more, and she held it against her better judgment before remembering herself. "We mustn't, Ronald, we really mustn't….."

"Do you like that, 'Mione?" Ron rumbled.

"Y-Yes… I – I mean, No!" Hermione stammered, his kisses causing her head to spin. She wasn't thinking clearly. This was madness. This time, when Ron's mouth pressed against hers, she openly melted into it, purring, her arms reaching up to loop about his neck, grip his shoulders. She shivered when she felt the hand that was groping her arse suddenly squeeze the tender flesh there before scooping to boldly grip the underside of her thigh.

"Ron, you're…. you're married! We – we can't! No – Mmmmmm… No! – Mmmmmm….." Ron was kissing her everywhere that he could reach, and when his palm not audaciously grabbing her thigh happened to brush against her breast, she hissed at the tender arousal she felt from all the way under her bra. "No, this isn't right…."

But by now, her own voice was weak, and she was struggling to convince herself of her own words. Growling, Ron suddenly, gallingly hiked Hermione's thigh up and she responded with almost perfectly harmony, hooking it about his torso at the back of the knee.

Ron's kiss now stole the breath from her lungs, the feel of his mouth on hers utterly bruising and Hermione moaned greedily. "Mmmmm? Mmmmmmm…. Hmmmm…."

The last of her resistance crumbled. Closing her eyes, the lids and lashes fluttering shut, she tangled her fingers into his auburn locks and pulled. She kissed him back.

The couple staggered back towards the bed and fell onto it, Ron's strong body pinning Hermione beneath him. Hermione was trembling, her lips red and swollen from being so thoroughly kissed. Her face was on fire as she watched the man she had always loved ever since she was a little girl, the man she had pined after and mourned for after he married another woman, now crawl up the bed towards her with a glint in his eye that was making her knickers very, very wet.

"Ron….." Flopping her head back into the pillows with a groan, she spread her legs for him as much as her tight business skirt and panties would allow. He didn't take long trying to undress her lower half, and she helped him, wriggling out of her skirt and shoving her underwear down to her ankles.

Hovering over her, Ron reached out a shaking hand to cup Hermione at the swell of her breasts. She groaned prettily, scissoring her legs up to wind them about his hips, trapping him between her knees. She needed to make damn sure he knew: she wanted him.

Ron was having trouble with the buttons at her blouse, and at least one popped in his haste to open it. The two halves parted like curtains, and wrenching one boob free from its bra cup, Hermione seized Ron's skull and held it to her chest, shoving her pebbled nipple into his face.

"Hmmm….. yes, more please," she sighed.

Her fingers tingled as she now returned the favor, undoing his trousers until she had freed his cock. Ron was by now dazedly lathering her bare breast with his tongue and teeth. When he sucked on the nipple hard, Hermione whimpered. She'd had sex before, of course, but it had been so bloody long, at least a year, and…. and she needed….

"I need you inside me!" she hissed, her voice strangely hoarse. Mouth filled with her boob, Ron grunted. Gripping him with her knees while her palm now closed around his shaft and all the desire for her throbbing within it, Hermione guided Ron to her entrance. They had barely lined up before he was shoving himself inside her. Clawing at his back, Hermione let out a happy scream of astonishment at how huge he felt buried in her pussy.

It was pure, animalistic fucking that followed. Ron and Hermione undulated, rocked and bucked against each other like two hippogriffs in heat. Hermione dug her nails into the flesh of Ron's toned arse and growled, lifting her hips purposefully to meet him thrust for thrust. He matched her pace, bearing down and the sheer power he displayed plowing into her – and bareback, no less! – made Hermione quiver on every upstroke. She could feel every vein of his dick as it slid in and out of her.

"Huhhh….. Uhhhhh… R-Ron…. Godric, love, I'm close; I've never in my entire life cum this quickly – I'm….. Ahhhhhh…. AHHHHHHHHHHH!... AHHHHHHHH!"

With one final slam from Ron, Hermione felt her walls clench, her legs scrabbling for purchase on the mattress, and she orgasmed with a happy scream. Feeling lightheaded, dizzy, and utterly dazed, Hermione dreamily encircled her arms about Ron's shoulder blades, her nails digging into the flesh there to hold him close. Keep him buried within her as he grinded against her to his own completion.

"Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last I've found you! …" Hermione sang softly. Ron merely grunted and gave her one last pounding, finally ejaculating inside her flooding core with a grunt. "Ahhh, at last I know the secret of it all!..."

It was the best damn sex of Hermione's life.