Chapter 10
Sunday 27 August (just!)
Ron looked awful. His eyes were holes in an ashen face and his hair was going in 50 directions like he'd been tugging at it in desperation.
He looked around wildly before catching sight of me and was at my side in an instant.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed, running a gentle hand down my cheek. "I've been going mad. Why did you skip out like that?"
"It seemed like a good idea," I admitted ruefully. "All those things that she said." My voice tailed off. Ron gave me a tiny shake. "Like I was going to believe her!" he said incredulously. "Are you alright?" There was a cough behind us. "I'm sorry to break up this touching reunion," said Malfoy. "But Hermione and I were just going upstairs. She forced me to book a room and, well, you know how it is."
Ron growled and lunged at Malfoy but I held him back.
"Look, let's all go upstairs and sort this out," I suggested, moving towards the lift with my hand still clutching at Ron's t-shirt so he couldn't make any sudden moves.
Malfoy shrugged and followed us.
The atmosphere in the lift was hostile with added bits of hostility. I stood in between Malfoy and Ron as they glared at each other -the journey up to the fifth floor seemed to take an eternity.
"It's room 507," I said absently as we walked down a thickly carpeted corridor and Ron smiled faintly.
"That's the room you stayed in in Paris," he commented. Malfoy snorted.
Ron stopped. "I've just about had enough of you," he told Malfoy in a cold voice that turned my insides to ice.
"The feelings mutual," Malfoy sneered. "But I paid over 700 quid for this room so you can either give me the money or the pair of you can sleep in the van."
Put like that, Malfoy did have a point and I could see Ron reaching the same conclusion, when Malfoy couldn't resist adding, "Mind you, I'd be happy to take £500 if you threw Hermione in as part of the deal."
I jumped out the way as Ron slammed Malfoy into the wall and landed him a sucker punch right on the jaw.
I didn't know who looked more surprised, Malfoy or Ron. Neither of them did anything for a moment but then Malfoy dived at Ron and they both went down on the floor. I stood there helplessly while they rolled about hitting each other. Ron eventually pinned Malfoy to the ground and kept punching him. It was horrible.
"Stop it!" I screamed, trying to pull Ron off. "Stop it, both of you!" I dragged Ron off and picked up my wand (Malfoy had dropped) while Malfoy lay on the floor groaning his mouth bleeding.
"I think you broke my nose," Malfoy gasped indignantly.
"Good," said Ron tersely, putting a hand up to his cheek, which was starting to ooze blood where Malfoy had caught him with his signet ring. "I'll break your legs if you don't leave. And if you take the van I'm calling the police to report it stolen. Now *@£$ off and if I ever catch you within ten miles of Hermione I'll kill you." I stared at Ron, who now resembled Sirius that night when Peter was discovered to be Scabbers. Which is to say murderous.
For once Malfoy had no snappy comeback. I was opening and shutting my mouth like a distressed goldfish as Ron took hold of my hand and pulled me down the corridor.
The second that we got into the room and shut the door whatever adrenaline had been pumping through Ron's veins seemed to evaporate and his shoulders slumped as he staggered to the bathroom. I could hear him throwing up a moment later.
He was leaning over the loo on his knees as I bent down to rub his back.
"Hey Ron," I whispered. "It's alright. Everything's going to be alright."
Ron wiped his hand across his mouth and sat back on the floor. "That was meant to be my line," he said with a weak grin. "I hate myself for what I just did. I scared the hell out of you, didn't I?"
I nodded. "But you scared yourself more," I pointed out. "Why don't you have a bath and I'll ring down for some food." And then I left the bathroom because everything that had happened in the last hour had left me so freaked out, I was going to lose it big time if I stayed.
I curled up on the bed and thought about ringing The Mothership but knew that the minute I heard her voice, I'd start crying so I phoned down to the kitchen and asked them to send up some scoff and drinks (although I was way more polite than that) and phoned Cho to let her know that the apocalypse had kind of been averted.
By that time Ron was out of the bathroom. He seemed to have got himself under control. I was flicking the channels on the television when he sat down on the edge of the bed furthest away from me. He was wearing his jeans and not much else. I watched the muscles in his back moving as he towelled his hair dry. And the reason why I was so antsy became obvious. Malfoy was history but now it was me and Ron in a hotel room and sight of his chest and the way his jeans hung low on his hips. I mean I could just reach out a hand and I'd be touching him. I flung myself of the bed and reached for my bag. Ron looked at me in surprise.
"I'm going to have a bath," I said in the same way you might say, "There's a plane about to crash land on our house."
"You alright?" Ron asked me, looking at me like I'd flipped.
"Yes!" I practically screeched. "There's food coming, you stay here."
And I ran bathroomwards.
I'd been immersed in bubbles for ten minutes when Ron knocked.
"Are you sure you're alright?" he said through the door.
"You can't come in!" I yelped.
"I know," he sounded amused. "The food's here. They've brought Champagne, on the house 'cause it's the honeymoon suite or something."
"That's nice," I said distractedly.
"I could sit here and chat to you if you like," suggested Ron still in that amused voice.
"OK," I agreed in a small voice.
I never thought I'd have a conversation with Ron while I was stark naked. It seemed rude somehow even though there was a door between us. I told him what had gone down with Malfoy and he told me that Veronique had climbed out of the pooh pit and chased him back to the tents but he'd been determined to out-run her 'cause she had muck all over her. Then she'd got changed, flung all her smelly clothes into the campfire and made Malfoy give her a lift to the station.
"He told me he'd taken the van without anyone knowing," I chimed in.
"He would," said Ron darkly. "We thought you were still on the site. It wasn't until later that Susan realised you'd taken your backpack."
"You know me, act first, think later," I said and Ron laughed.
"Why are you laughing?" I asked.
"It was the expression on Veronique's face when you pushed her and she realised where she was going to land," he said in between laughs.
"Well she deserved it," I muttered.
"I almost forgot about that," Ron said. "Is your tummy alright?"
I looked at my stomach through the bubbles; there was a big cloudy purple bruise. "It's a bit tender," I replied. There was a pause and then Ron said in such a sultry voice that it made my toes curl. "Hmm, I'll have to look at that later."
I looked up at the ceiling and then slid under the water where I didn't have to think about the ramifications of what he'd said.
I'd just finished rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when Ron knocked on the door again.
"Have you drowned?"
"I'll be out in five minutes," I said, although part of me wanted to stay in there all night and the other part of me wanted to get the hell out of there and jump Ron's bones.
I pulled on my pink spotty pyjama bottoms and a black camisole vest which were the only clean clothes I had left and forced myself to open the door.
Ron was sprawled on his stomach on the bed, still wearing just his jeans and sipping Champagne. He gave me a lazy smile. "Hey you," he said softly.
"Hey yourself," I murmured, hitching up my pyjama bottoms as they settled on my hips.
Ron looked at me with interest.
"Do you need a hand there?" he asked, arching an eyebrow provocatively.
"I'm having elastic problems," I scowled, circling the bed warily. Maybe I could sit on a chair. In fact, maybe I could sleep on a chair, but Ron was patting the bed.
"C'mon, I won't bite," he was saying. There was another pause. "Well, not unless you want me to."
"Stop being so, so.seductive," I bit out crossly, climbing onto the bed and making sure I kept a safe distance away from him.
Ron stretched out an arm and pulled the food trolley nearer.
"Do you want something to eat?"
I considered the question. I couldn't kiss him if I was eating. But then did I want to eat if I could be kissing him?
"There's chips," Ron said cajolingly. "They're still hot."
I scrambled towards him and investigated dinner then sat cross-legged next to him while I ate chips and drank champagne. It was so decadent. Ron rolled onto his back and watched me as I washed down the rest of the chips with what was left in my glass.
"So you've finished eating, what are we going to do now?" he wanted to know as I stole a hungry glance at the way his chest rose as he spoke.
I laid down next to him, keeping a foot of bed between us and I figured I might as well try and get some sleep. But slowly our bodies inched towards the middle of the bed and then I could feel Ron's arm pressing against my side. It seemed to burn where it touched me.
I gave a desperate groan and flung myself on top of him. Ron was very obliging as I wound myself around him; I wanted to bury myself inside him. I smothered his face in kisses; his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks and then I bit his lower lip gently between my teeth.
That was my undoing. Ron suddenly moved so I was trapped beneath him and caught my mouth in a deep kiss. My lips parted as he traced the contours of my mouth with the tip of his tongue before plunging inside.
Kissing him was like standing on the edge of the world. And it was like all my best memories rolled into one. Fifty new dresses. A song I couldn't live without. The sun on my skin.
We toppled off the bed onto the floor, clothes getting tugged away, both of us desperate not to lose contact with the other. Ron ran a hand down my body.
"Mine," he said possessively. "You're mine and I love you. And I loved you, even when we were apart. Even when I thought I'd lost you."
I stroked his face. "I love you too," I told him. The words sounded strange, I'd never said it out loud before, although I'd thought it for so long. "When we were in Paris, you stopped being a crush."
Ron smoothed the hair from my face. "We don't have to, if you don't want to."
I put a finger to his lips. "I do. But, you know, I'm still.It's my first time. I didn't, not with him. I think I always wanted it to be you."
Ron smiled and nipped at my finger. "I wanted it to be me too," he admitted. "I'll be gentle, I promise."
As I slid between the covers I wondered why I wasn't panicking like I'd been with Malfoy and I realised it was 'cause it felt right. Right place, right time and definitely the right boy.
Ron hesitated before getting back into bed. "Hermione?"
"Hmmm?" I said dreamily tracing a finger down his back. Ron caught my hand and pressed a kiss in my palm.
"Have you got any. I don't have any protection." He said with an embarrassed smile.
"In my backpack," I murmured. "I've got about 50." And then I started laughing.
"What's so funny?" Ron asked, almost falling out of bed as he dragged my backpack across the floor.
"I never thought when I bought them that I'd actually be using them, y'know, in a room like this and with you!" I said, giggling.
"I'm glad you are using them with me," Ron said slightly huffily. "And not with him."
"Don't talk about that loser, not when we're here like this," I pleaded. "It's just you and me. Nothing else matters."
Ron gave a smile that was positively evil and rolled on top of me.
"You're so sexy when you get stroppy," he purred. "Which is practically all the time."
"Oh, shut up," I whined.
And then Ron was kissing me hard and it was all I could do to remember to breathe. And when it finally happened Ron held me tight and whispered sweet things in my ear. He touched my skin wonderingly as if he couldn't believe that I was there and we were doing what we were doing. And folded me up in his arms and kissed my forehead when it was over and told me how much he loved me until I fell asleep.
When I woke up the first fingers of light were beginning to creep through the curtains. Ron was asleep, his arm around my waist. I lay there for a minute trying not to think but it was no good. There was too much stuff going on in my head and I really needed to pee.
I wriggled out of bed and hunted for some clothes. I might have had intercourse but I wasn't ready to strut around bare-ass naked. I found Ron's t-shirt and pulled it on before scurrying into the bathroom.
While I was washing my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror. My face stared back. Same old Hermione. Same old hair that wouldn't lie flat. Same old eyes. I'd read in books about girls who'd lost their virginity and how they'd look in the mirror afterwards and realise they'd turned into a woman. But I still felt the same. A bit more uncertain than usual, but, yup, still Hermione. The earth hadn't moved but the feeling of closeness, the feeling that Ron and me were together had been wonderful and a tiny bit frightening at the same time.
Yawning, I crept back into bed and Ron gave a sigh and pulled me against him.
"What are you wearing?" he complained sleepily.
"Your t-shirt," I sighed, fighting between my modesty and how nice it felt to have Ron's chest pressed against my back. Niceness won and I tugged off the offending item.
"That's better," said Ron, sounding more awake. He kissed my shoulder. "I've missed you."
"I only went to the bathroom," I protested.
"No, I mean I missed you when we weren't together," Ron replied. "I missed your smile and your Hermioneisms and I missed you."
I turned round so I was facing him. "I missed you too but I always knew we'd get back together," I said firmly.
"Was it alright, before?" Ron asked, wrapping his arms round me. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"It was fine," I told him. "It wasn't like how I imagined it."
Ron frowned. "It gets better. I tried to take it slow." I smiled. "I didn't mean it like that." I traced his lips with my finger. I loved the fact that he was mine to touch again. "Isn't it strange? Sex, I mean. It's just so odd."
Ron laughed, his eyebrows quirking upwards, a wicked look on his face. "Pity to let this bed go to waste."
"We could always go back to sleep," I suggested with a smirk.
"But I had something else in mind," he drawled.
And the second time was different to the first. Better. Infinitely, wonderfully better. And then I slept in Ron's arms until someone tapped on the door and told us we had to check out in half an hour. And I was scared that when I woke up, the dream would have disappeared but it was still there. Ron was still there. Ready to go and holding out his hand for me to take.
Sunday 27 August (much later)
We drove back to the site even though I was contemplating emptying my bank vault so we could spend another night at the Manor Park.
"Hmmm, it was sort of cool in a so-chintzy-it-made-my-eyes-hurt way," agreed Ron sarcastically when I put the idea to him, but he started up the van anyway.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "It's not the décor I like," I hissed. "It's the fact that it doesn't resemble a tent."
"You're such a princess," laughed Ron. "But I do have a vacancy in my two- man tent that you might be interested in."
"I wonder what the others will think," I mused.
"I don't care," said Ron decisively. "I don't care about anything except you. Do you know what I thought last night when you were asleep and I was holding you?"
"What?" I asked in a trembly voice.
"That you and me were inevitable. You're the only thing that makes me happy."
"You make me happy too," I admitted. "But it's not like last time, is it? We're not just friends who snog each other anymore. We're, like, having a relationship."
"I can handle it, if you can," grinned Ron. "You game?"
I reached out a hand and gently pulled at his hair. "If you break my heart again, I'm going to kill you," I said quietly.
Ron pulled me across the seat and wrapped an arm around me. I rested my hand against his shoulder.
"It's not going to happen," he promised. That was good enough for me.
I could hear the steady beat of his heart and smell the scent of lemons and soap on his skin. Ron sang along to an old song on the radio, one hand resting lightly on the steering wheel and the road stretched before us.
Fine.
Sunday 27 August (just!)
Ron looked awful. His eyes were holes in an ashen face and his hair was going in 50 directions like he'd been tugging at it in desperation.
He looked around wildly before catching sight of me and was at my side in an instant.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed, running a gentle hand down my cheek. "I've been going mad. Why did you skip out like that?"
"It seemed like a good idea," I admitted ruefully. "All those things that she said." My voice tailed off. Ron gave me a tiny shake. "Like I was going to believe her!" he said incredulously. "Are you alright?" There was a cough behind us. "I'm sorry to break up this touching reunion," said Malfoy. "But Hermione and I were just going upstairs. She forced me to book a room and, well, you know how it is."
Ron growled and lunged at Malfoy but I held him back.
"Look, let's all go upstairs and sort this out," I suggested, moving towards the lift with my hand still clutching at Ron's t-shirt so he couldn't make any sudden moves.
Malfoy shrugged and followed us.
The atmosphere in the lift was hostile with added bits of hostility. I stood in between Malfoy and Ron as they glared at each other -the journey up to the fifth floor seemed to take an eternity.
"It's room 507," I said absently as we walked down a thickly carpeted corridor and Ron smiled faintly.
"That's the room you stayed in in Paris," he commented. Malfoy snorted.
Ron stopped. "I've just about had enough of you," he told Malfoy in a cold voice that turned my insides to ice.
"The feelings mutual," Malfoy sneered. "But I paid over 700 quid for this room so you can either give me the money or the pair of you can sleep in the van."
Put like that, Malfoy did have a point and I could see Ron reaching the same conclusion, when Malfoy couldn't resist adding, "Mind you, I'd be happy to take £500 if you threw Hermione in as part of the deal."
I jumped out the way as Ron slammed Malfoy into the wall and landed him a sucker punch right on the jaw.
I didn't know who looked more surprised, Malfoy or Ron. Neither of them did anything for a moment but then Malfoy dived at Ron and they both went down on the floor. I stood there helplessly while they rolled about hitting each other. Ron eventually pinned Malfoy to the ground and kept punching him. It was horrible.
"Stop it!" I screamed, trying to pull Ron off. "Stop it, both of you!" I dragged Ron off and picked up my wand (Malfoy had dropped) while Malfoy lay on the floor groaning his mouth bleeding.
"I think you broke my nose," Malfoy gasped indignantly.
"Good," said Ron tersely, putting a hand up to his cheek, which was starting to ooze blood where Malfoy had caught him with his signet ring. "I'll break your legs if you don't leave. And if you take the van I'm calling the police to report it stolen. Now *@£$ off and if I ever catch you within ten miles of Hermione I'll kill you." I stared at Ron, who now resembled Sirius that night when Peter was discovered to be Scabbers. Which is to say murderous.
For once Malfoy had no snappy comeback. I was opening and shutting my mouth like a distressed goldfish as Ron took hold of my hand and pulled me down the corridor.
The second that we got into the room and shut the door whatever adrenaline had been pumping through Ron's veins seemed to evaporate and his shoulders slumped as he staggered to the bathroom. I could hear him throwing up a moment later.
He was leaning over the loo on his knees as I bent down to rub his back.
"Hey Ron," I whispered. "It's alright. Everything's going to be alright."
Ron wiped his hand across his mouth and sat back on the floor. "That was meant to be my line," he said with a weak grin. "I hate myself for what I just did. I scared the hell out of you, didn't I?"
I nodded. "But you scared yourself more," I pointed out. "Why don't you have a bath and I'll ring down for some food." And then I left the bathroom because everything that had happened in the last hour had left me so freaked out, I was going to lose it big time if I stayed.
I curled up on the bed and thought about ringing The Mothership but knew that the minute I heard her voice, I'd start crying so I phoned down to the kitchen and asked them to send up some scoff and drinks (although I was way more polite than that) and phoned Cho to let her know that the apocalypse had kind of been averted.
By that time Ron was out of the bathroom. He seemed to have got himself under control. I was flicking the channels on the television when he sat down on the edge of the bed furthest away from me. He was wearing his jeans and not much else. I watched the muscles in his back moving as he towelled his hair dry. And the reason why I was so antsy became obvious. Malfoy was history but now it was me and Ron in a hotel room and sight of his chest and the way his jeans hung low on his hips. I mean I could just reach out a hand and I'd be touching him. I flung myself of the bed and reached for my bag. Ron looked at me in surprise.
"I'm going to have a bath," I said in the same way you might say, "There's a plane about to crash land on our house."
"You alright?" Ron asked me, looking at me like I'd flipped.
"Yes!" I practically screeched. "There's food coming, you stay here."
And I ran bathroomwards.
I'd been immersed in bubbles for ten minutes when Ron knocked.
"Are you sure you're alright?" he said through the door.
"You can't come in!" I yelped.
"I know," he sounded amused. "The food's here. They've brought Champagne, on the house 'cause it's the honeymoon suite or something."
"That's nice," I said distractedly.
"I could sit here and chat to you if you like," suggested Ron still in that amused voice.
"OK," I agreed in a small voice.
I never thought I'd have a conversation with Ron while I was stark naked. It seemed rude somehow even though there was a door between us. I told him what had gone down with Malfoy and he told me that Veronique had climbed out of the pooh pit and chased him back to the tents but he'd been determined to out-run her 'cause she had muck all over her. Then she'd got changed, flung all her smelly clothes into the campfire and made Malfoy give her a lift to the station.
"He told me he'd taken the van without anyone knowing," I chimed in.
"He would," said Ron darkly. "We thought you were still on the site. It wasn't until later that Susan realised you'd taken your backpack."
"You know me, act first, think later," I said and Ron laughed.
"Why are you laughing?" I asked.
"It was the expression on Veronique's face when you pushed her and she realised where she was going to land," he said in between laughs.
"Well she deserved it," I muttered.
"I almost forgot about that," Ron said. "Is your tummy alright?"
I looked at my stomach through the bubbles; there was a big cloudy purple bruise. "It's a bit tender," I replied. There was a pause and then Ron said in such a sultry voice that it made my toes curl. "Hmm, I'll have to look at that later."
I looked up at the ceiling and then slid under the water where I didn't have to think about the ramifications of what he'd said.
I'd just finished rinsing the conditioner out of my hair when Ron knocked on the door again.
"Have you drowned?"
"I'll be out in five minutes," I said, although part of me wanted to stay in there all night and the other part of me wanted to get the hell out of there and jump Ron's bones.
I pulled on my pink spotty pyjama bottoms and a black camisole vest which were the only clean clothes I had left and forced myself to open the door.
Ron was sprawled on his stomach on the bed, still wearing just his jeans and sipping Champagne. He gave me a lazy smile. "Hey you," he said softly.
"Hey yourself," I murmured, hitching up my pyjama bottoms as they settled on my hips.
Ron looked at me with interest.
"Do you need a hand there?" he asked, arching an eyebrow provocatively.
"I'm having elastic problems," I scowled, circling the bed warily. Maybe I could sit on a chair. In fact, maybe I could sleep on a chair, but Ron was patting the bed.
"C'mon, I won't bite," he was saying. There was another pause. "Well, not unless you want me to."
"Stop being so, so.seductive," I bit out crossly, climbing onto the bed and making sure I kept a safe distance away from him.
Ron stretched out an arm and pulled the food trolley nearer.
"Do you want something to eat?"
I considered the question. I couldn't kiss him if I was eating. But then did I want to eat if I could be kissing him?
"There's chips," Ron said cajolingly. "They're still hot."
I scrambled towards him and investigated dinner then sat cross-legged next to him while I ate chips and drank champagne. It was so decadent. Ron rolled onto his back and watched me as I washed down the rest of the chips with what was left in my glass.
"So you've finished eating, what are we going to do now?" he wanted to know as I stole a hungry glance at the way his chest rose as he spoke.
I laid down next to him, keeping a foot of bed between us and I figured I might as well try and get some sleep. But slowly our bodies inched towards the middle of the bed and then I could feel Ron's arm pressing against my side. It seemed to burn where it touched me.
I gave a desperate groan and flung myself on top of him. Ron was very obliging as I wound myself around him; I wanted to bury myself inside him. I smothered his face in kisses; his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks and then I bit his lower lip gently between my teeth.
That was my undoing. Ron suddenly moved so I was trapped beneath him and caught my mouth in a deep kiss. My lips parted as he traced the contours of my mouth with the tip of his tongue before plunging inside.
Kissing him was like standing on the edge of the world. And it was like all my best memories rolled into one. Fifty new dresses. A song I couldn't live without. The sun on my skin.
We toppled off the bed onto the floor, clothes getting tugged away, both of us desperate not to lose contact with the other. Ron ran a hand down my body.
"Mine," he said possessively. "You're mine and I love you. And I loved you, even when we were apart. Even when I thought I'd lost you."
I stroked his face. "I love you too," I told him. The words sounded strange, I'd never said it out loud before, although I'd thought it for so long. "When we were in Paris, you stopped being a crush."
Ron smoothed the hair from my face. "We don't have to, if you don't want to."
I put a finger to his lips. "I do. But, you know, I'm still.It's my first time. I didn't, not with him. I think I always wanted it to be you."
Ron smiled and nipped at my finger. "I wanted it to be me too," he admitted. "I'll be gentle, I promise."
As I slid between the covers I wondered why I wasn't panicking like I'd been with Malfoy and I realised it was 'cause it felt right. Right place, right time and definitely the right boy.
Ron hesitated before getting back into bed. "Hermione?"
"Hmmm?" I said dreamily tracing a finger down his back. Ron caught my hand and pressed a kiss in my palm.
"Have you got any. I don't have any protection." He said with an embarrassed smile.
"In my backpack," I murmured. "I've got about 50." And then I started laughing.
"What's so funny?" Ron asked, almost falling out of bed as he dragged my backpack across the floor.
"I never thought when I bought them that I'd actually be using them, y'know, in a room like this and with you!" I said, giggling.
"I'm glad you are using them with me," Ron said slightly huffily. "And not with him."
"Don't talk about that loser, not when we're here like this," I pleaded. "It's just you and me. Nothing else matters."
Ron gave a smile that was positively evil and rolled on top of me.
"You're so sexy when you get stroppy," he purred. "Which is practically all the time."
"Oh, shut up," I whined.
And then Ron was kissing me hard and it was all I could do to remember to breathe. And when it finally happened Ron held me tight and whispered sweet things in my ear. He touched my skin wonderingly as if he couldn't believe that I was there and we were doing what we were doing. And folded me up in his arms and kissed my forehead when it was over and told me how much he loved me until I fell asleep.
When I woke up the first fingers of light were beginning to creep through the curtains. Ron was asleep, his arm around my waist. I lay there for a minute trying not to think but it was no good. There was too much stuff going on in my head and I really needed to pee.
I wriggled out of bed and hunted for some clothes. I might have had intercourse but I wasn't ready to strut around bare-ass naked. I found Ron's t-shirt and pulled it on before scurrying into the bathroom.
While I was washing my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror. My face stared back. Same old Hermione. Same old hair that wouldn't lie flat. Same old eyes. I'd read in books about girls who'd lost their virginity and how they'd look in the mirror afterwards and realise they'd turned into a woman. But I still felt the same. A bit more uncertain than usual, but, yup, still Hermione. The earth hadn't moved but the feeling of closeness, the feeling that Ron and me were together had been wonderful and a tiny bit frightening at the same time.
Yawning, I crept back into bed and Ron gave a sigh and pulled me against him.
"What are you wearing?" he complained sleepily.
"Your t-shirt," I sighed, fighting between my modesty and how nice it felt to have Ron's chest pressed against my back. Niceness won and I tugged off the offending item.
"That's better," said Ron, sounding more awake. He kissed my shoulder. "I've missed you."
"I only went to the bathroom," I protested.
"No, I mean I missed you when we weren't together," Ron replied. "I missed your smile and your Hermioneisms and I missed you."
I turned round so I was facing him. "I missed you too but I always knew we'd get back together," I said firmly.
"Was it alright, before?" Ron asked, wrapping his arms round me. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"It was fine," I told him. "It wasn't like how I imagined it."
Ron frowned. "It gets better. I tried to take it slow." I smiled. "I didn't mean it like that." I traced his lips with my finger. I loved the fact that he was mine to touch again. "Isn't it strange? Sex, I mean. It's just so odd."
Ron laughed, his eyebrows quirking upwards, a wicked look on his face. "Pity to let this bed go to waste."
"We could always go back to sleep," I suggested with a smirk.
"But I had something else in mind," he drawled.
And the second time was different to the first. Better. Infinitely, wonderfully better. And then I slept in Ron's arms until someone tapped on the door and told us we had to check out in half an hour. And I was scared that when I woke up, the dream would have disappeared but it was still there. Ron was still there. Ready to go and holding out his hand for me to take.
Sunday 27 August (much later)
We drove back to the site even though I was contemplating emptying my bank vault so we could spend another night at the Manor Park.
"Hmmm, it was sort of cool in a so-chintzy-it-made-my-eyes-hurt way," agreed Ron sarcastically when I put the idea to him, but he started up the van anyway.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "It's not the décor I like," I hissed. "It's the fact that it doesn't resemble a tent."
"You're such a princess," laughed Ron. "But I do have a vacancy in my two- man tent that you might be interested in."
"I wonder what the others will think," I mused.
"I don't care," said Ron decisively. "I don't care about anything except you. Do you know what I thought last night when you were asleep and I was holding you?"
"What?" I asked in a trembly voice.
"That you and me were inevitable. You're the only thing that makes me happy."
"You make me happy too," I admitted. "But it's not like last time, is it? We're not just friends who snog each other anymore. We're, like, having a relationship."
"I can handle it, if you can," grinned Ron. "You game?"
I reached out a hand and gently pulled at his hair. "If you break my heart again, I'm going to kill you," I said quietly.
Ron pulled me across the seat and wrapped an arm around me. I rested my hand against his shoulder.
"It's not going to happen," he promised. That was good enough for me.
I could hear the steady beat of his heart and smell the scent of lemons and soap on his skin. Ron sang along to an old song on the radio, one hand resting lightly on the steering wheel and the road stretched before us.
Fine.