He considered it a feat just short of Voldemort's destruction that they were standing before her door. Those were four very long, very steep, trick-step laden staircases he had to climb to get her here! He had to put her down and rest for a bit. He really had to steady his breathing so he wouldn't turn blue, because blue skin and red hair definitely did not mix. It didn't help when she decided to lean on him. 'Damn! This woman's going to kill me,' he panted. 'But what a way to go!' the other part of his brain sniggered.
He may as well be a gentleman and open her door. 'And tuck her into bed.' 'Stop that!' 'All right, all right! Testy...' 'Shut up!' He wondered if he would be allowed to go to one of those Muggle doctors that Hermione once told him sorted out people's mental problems. A psycho-whatsis. But then again, maybe what he really needed was a spell to fuse his brain together again.
He pulled out his wand and pointed it at her door. "Alohomora," he said. He heard the door click. "What's the password?" "Bubotuber pus." That brought back memories of Rita Skeeter and the Witch Weekly article. 'D'you think she'd hex me if I called her a scarlet woman?' 'How badly do you want purple boils on your face, stupid? The Quidditch final's tomorrow, in case you've forgotten.' 'Oh yeah, right.'
It suddenly occurred to him that they were just standing outside the door. She seemed to be waiting for him to do something, so he put his hand on the small of her back and guided her inside. How he wished he could keep his hand there all night. But he knew he had to remove it, or else she'd cut it off for him. 'Okay, so now she's in her room. Now what?' 'Dunno, she'll probably say goodnight and that'll be my cue to leave.' 'Good idea, but could you loosen up a bit? It's so hot, I'm dying here.'
He pulled off his school robes and jumper without noticing what he was doing, but he felt better for it. He continued trying to get comfortable, not realizing that Hermione could be watching him. His collar and tie were now loose, his sleeves were rolled up and he was holding his discarded clothes in his hands before he remembered he was not in his own room. 'Uh-oh, she's going to kill me.' 'No, she won't, maybe she'll be drawn by your animal magnetism.' 'Yeah, right, and Snape will give me a Niffler for Christmas.'
He was distracted by the sound of the door swinging shut and locking behind them. He knew the Silencing spell would kick in any moment. He saw the familiar shimmering of the walls that told him he was correct. He frowned. 'Did she ever have boys up here?' 'Of course she did, she'd probably counseled quite a few of them.' 'What do you mean, counseled? As in counseled, or...' 'Don't go there, you'll have a heart attack if you do.' The thought of her with another boy made him want to go on a killing spree using his bare hands. The silence was getting uncomfortable. He started to fidget.
He glanced at her and saw that she also had a frown on her face, as if he had done something that would make Dumbledore throw him out of Hogwarts. 'Hang on, does she think I've gotten girls up to my room and... and shagged them?' 'Well... it felt sooo real to me.' 'Sod off, you know those were just...' 'Fantasies, I know, you idiot.' 'Great, I'm teasing myself. I AM officially insane.' 'You should be by now, fantasizing about one girl for years. She's standing right in front of you, you git! What are you waiting for?' 'What are you on about?' 'I have to shout it out, don't I? DO SOMETHING TO MAKE HER YOURS!!'
Er... "Are you going to be all right?"
"I think I'll be fine. Thank you, Ron," she answered. Her voice was so soft, so sad. She was looking down at the floor. She didn't want to talk. He sighed quietly.
"You're welcome." He just knew he'd lost his last chance. There was nothing left for him to do but to turn away.
"S-so... so... How's... Pig doing?" she blurted out.
His thoughts rioted. 'Did she just say something...' 'STUPID?!' 'I know, can you believe it?' 'Now's your chance, go on, GO ON!' 'To do what?' 'ANYTHING!!'
He steeled his nerves and stepped up to her. "Your robes are filthy," he whispered. He reached out and unclasped her robes. He shook the dirt off them, then walked over to the laundry basket beside her dresser and chucked them in. He slung his robes and jumper on the back of one of the chairs in the room.
"I'm sorry about our fight earlier," he said, as he stepped back towards her.
"You don't have to apologize. It was my fault, too," she said.
The voices inside his head grew louder. 'She's moving towards her BED! She's trembling!!' 'I know, don't shout!' 'C'mon, just take her and shag her and be done with it!' 'I can't do that, I'm in love with her.' 'Then let her know, and get her to admit she loves you too.' 'But what if she doesn't love me?' 'Then make her love you, you fool!'
"Why do we fight all the time?" He could tell he'd said the right thing by the way her eyes went slightly out of focus.
"It's what we do. We've been doing it since first year, so I suppose we enjoy it," she whispered. 'That CAN'T be right!' 'Then let her know it isn't.'
He grasped his courage with both hands and let her have it. "Do we enjoy it? Do you really think I enjoy being angry with you half the time? Do you think it makes me happy that I make you cry? Half the school sees you bursting into tears after our fights, so don't try to deny it."
"I... I... don't cry about it all the time." 'Poor kid, she's in denial so much deeper than you are.' 'Shut up! I'm on a roll here.'
"Of course you don't. Other times you threaten to hex me. When you're really mad you skip the threats and just curse me."
"But... but you KNOW how to block almost any curse! So why do you let me hex you?" 'Uh-oh. Naughty, naughty, you got caughty.' 'Will you STOP?!' 'I will if you come clean.'
His ears turned red. He felt as though he was six years old again. "I reckon I deserve it. For making you cry, you see." He crossed his fingers behind his back, praying she would understand what he meant: that he had to let her hurt him sometimes in a clumsy attempt to make up for the times he made her cry.
He knew by the way she gasped that she understood. Her eyes softened. His heart made several back flips and threw in a somersault for good measure. He had a chance. She might even fall in love with him tonight. "Oh, Ron, I hate it when we fight, but I just can't help it. Can you understand? Because I can't."
His blood roared in his ears. She had fallen in love with him tonight. "Maybe I do." He stepped closer.
"Can you explain it to me, then?" She was now so close to him that he was breathing on her forehead. He suddenly felt the strength he never knew he had. The strength to love her completely.
"No, but I think I can show you." He took her in his arms and brushed his lips against hers.
He felt that if he died that very moment, he would die a happy, happy man. He almost did die when she moved her lips in time with his. This went beyond love -- he worshipped this woman, and he didn't even have the words to tell her. He reckoned he would have to show her. His lips left hers to kiss her right cheek, the tip of her nose, her forehead, her left cheek and her chin. He desperately hoped it would be enough to let her know how he felt about her. But he knew it wouldn't be. He sealed his mouth over hers again, kissing her deeper and deeper. Their tongues were sliding against each other. 'So this is what heaven feels like,' he thought.
He must have done something wrong, something rude, because she suddenly drew away. He stared at her stupidly. She looked as though she was trying not to break down and cry.
"'Mione, look, I'm sorry I offended you. But I'm not sorry I kissed you. I've been wanting to kiss you for a very long time." She didn't look at him. 'What's going on? I thought she wanted me to kiss her. She WAS kissing me just a second ago.' 'It must be something else.' 'What?' 'How should I know? I'm not a bloody girl! Why don't YOU find out?' 'Don't lose it, count to ten, stay calm... One... Two... Oh, BLOODY HELL!'
"You're not going to make me feel guilty for this," he growled. She still didn't look at him. She was still trying to stop her tears from falling. 'It IS something else! But what?! Think, think! Oh, HELL, NO! It can't be...' 'It has to be, she's just as stubborn as you are about letting certain things go.'
"Hang on, is this about Angelina, Katie and Alicia? Bloody hell, 'Mione, can't you let it go?!" She still didn't answer him or look at him.
So it WAS about them, or Them, according to her. He remembered the way she screeched at him about letting Them kiss him after every game when he knew They were somebody else's girlfriends. No amount of reasoning on his part would convince her that it wasn't his fault. The way she put it, everything had to be his fault. She went on and on about it until she grew hoarse. Then it finally hit him. He treated her exactly the same way when it came to every boy who'd fancied her, or whom he'd suspected had fancied her. Viktor Krum. Terry Boot from Ravenclaw. Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff. Terence Higgs from Slytherin, another slimy git who was YEARS older than her. And Neville... He had never been so ashamed in his entire life. He didn't really threaten Neville, just... well, er, said some things, no, not really said, more like ranted, the gist being that Hermione Granger belonged only to him, Ronald Weasley, and no one in his right mind would dare interfere.
He really did try to let it go. He thought he had gotten over his jealousy when they began their seventh year. But it may have had more to do with the fact that ever since he had been named Head Boy, every male student in Hogwarts, except for Harry and the first years, had been too terrified to even look at Hermione. She, on the other hand, was as stubborn as ever, maintaining that he had no right to be angry with her the way she'd been angry with him. Now, was that fair? Absolutely not! To hear her go on about Them and his so-called fan club, anyone who overheard would have thought he was just a sodding bastard whose only concern was to shag every girl who would let him. Now he was boiling mad.
"All right, that's IT!" He crushed her lips against his. He opened her mouth with his and ravaged her with his tongue until he could feel her body melting into his. He wanted to break her, to make her whimper and beg for him. But she wasn't the most brilliant witch to come out of Hogwarts for nothing. He suddenly realized she was kissing him back, giving him as much as she got. She was clinging to him desperately, fighting to keep upright, meeting his attack and, oh God, even reveling in it. He was going to make a bloody fool of himself if he didn't do something.
He drew out his wand from his pocket and muttered a spell under his breath. There was a swoosh, and suddenly she was completely naked. He'd done it! Banished all her clothes. Perfect! Ronald Weasley - 1, Hermione Granger - 0.
He drew back a little to look at her body. Never in his most erotic fantasies had he ever imagined her looking like this! "God, Hermione, you're magnificent!" Uh-oh. The score was tied at 1 all. She was moving her hand up -- to do what? Cover his eyes? He almost started laughing until she looked at him, no, practically leered at him. The desire he saw in her eyes was enough to stiffen his, er, resolve. She groaned and tried to unbutton his shirt. Her fingers were trembling so badly she couldn't hold on to anything. She tried ripping his shirt open, but her hands weren't strong enough. He had to laugh just a little before brushing her fingers aside. He turned his wand on himself and banished his clothes.
She stood back a little and looked him over. His heart dropped to the floor when she spoke. "Hmm, you look just a bit better than someone I've seen before. Of course, he was a bit younger than you are now."
His whole face turned crimson. 'WHAT THE HELL IS SHE ON ABOUT?! DID SHE -- DID SHE--' His brain was burning. He couldn't breathe. "You -- you've seen another man naked before?! Who -- who -- was it KRUM?!" That's it, he was going to explode NOW. Three, two,...
She giggled at his reaction. He wanted to strangle her. "I've seen you almost naked once, remember? In your boxers and bruises all over. Does that count?" Oh, right. Ronald Weasley - 1, Hermione Granger - 10,000.
His eyes lit up in remembrance. His punishment for hitting Malfoy during their sixth year was to practice resisting two of the Unforgivable Curses. It was pure torture. He was hurled against the floor, bounced off the walls, even thrown out of an open second-floor window. At first he had been sworn to secrecy until Dumbledore decided Hermione and Harry had to practice as well. She'd demanded to see how badly he'd been hurt. Not in Voldemort's wildest dreams of world conquest would he do that! But she dragged him by his extremely sore arm to her room and commanded him to strip down to his bruises. She wouldn't let him out until he gave in. So they stayed in her room and fought for two hours. When he finally gave in to her, as he always did, and showed her exactly how his skin color resembled that of a plum, she cried as though her dearest friend had died. He was surprised to learn that she could wail exactly like a banshee. He fell asleep holding her in his arms as she soaked his bare shoulder with her tears. It was a wonder he didn't die of exposure, as he was wearing only his boxers at the time. He was amazed that her body was warm enough for both of them. But then again, she amazed him by her ability to do almost anything. Now, it was time for him to amaze her, to conquer her, heart and soul.
"Oh, you... you... scarlet woman! Come here!" He picked her up and threw her onto the bed, then lowered himself onto her. He muttered a contraception spell that his brothers Bill and Charlie had taught him last year, then tossed his wand away. Those two idiots were almost as bad as the twins when it came to, well, that. He had to suffer through their "You're eighteen, you're a man now" speech. At the time, he thought it ridiculous, as he was sure he would never make love to anyone except Hermione. He thought he would go to his grave, er, well, ahem, inexperienced, as he had already turned nineteen two months ago and he still hadn't gotten around to using the spell. Lucky he didn't forget. Hell, luck had nothing to do with it, as his brothers reminded him of it every chance they got. He made a mental note to thank Bill and Charlie later.
She's so soft, he thought. How could his hands and his mouth just glide over her skin like that? And her breasts... fitting into his fingers just so. And that little... valley... between them, so perfect for his lips to kiss. Oh, wow. And this was just her skin, for Merlin's sake! How would it feel like if it was her... He soon found out. Licking her there like that was electrifying. It haunted him, the way she screamed, "OH MY GOD! RON!!" It drove him to go at her harder and harder until she tugged at his hair. It was only then that he remembered his own desperate need.
As he was easing himself into her, he heard her cry out softly. 'Oh, God, I've HURT her!' 'Relax, it'll go away, just keep on doing what you're doing and she'll be fine. There, see? She likes it!' 'How do YOU know?' 'The Book, stupid! The Greatest Masterpiece of All Time!' 'Yeah, right. Masterpiece... a book called The Beginner's Guide to Sexual Intercourse, or How to Make Them Moan and Groan All Night Long?!' 'Well, you DID find out all you needed to know, didn't you?' 'Shut up, can't you hear her saying...'
"Ron -- faster -- please --"
'Show her FASTER, you idiot!' 'WILL YOU BE QUIET? I'm going as fast as I... Oh, God, what was that?' 'She's getting there! She's getting there! She's... THERE! I'm the BEST! Ha, ha! Fred and George didn't have what it takes to last this--' 'I don't want to think about those twin horndogs, I want to listen to her... SCREAMING MY NAME! OH, GOD, I'M... I'M... OH, GOD, HERMIONE!!' He shuddered violently. He felt as if everything inside him was spilling into her.
The next few hours flew by like they were blended into one single moment. All he could remember was the overwhelming pleasure of making love to her. The way she screamed his name over and over soaked into his marrow. He would never be able to forget. He had awakened her passion. He felt it in the way she flung him down, caressed him, and then made love to him. He thought that, like him, she was at a loss for words to say exactly what this night meant to her. He was wrong.
He remembered collapsing on top of her again when it happened. Somewhere between catching his breath and marveling at the softness of her shoulder, four little words hit him with the force of a lightning bolt.
"I love you, Ron."
His head shot up. He raised himself to his elbows so he could look at her. She was already asleep. The words were still echoing in his mind. His eyes started to blur. He didn't know what was happening until he put a hand up to his face and felt his tears flowing down. He lay down beside her and put his arms around her, pulling her gently so that her head rested on his shoulder. He wasn't sure if he had disturbed her, so he spoke to her softly.
"'Mione? Are you asleep? God, did you just say it... or did I need to hear it so much that I dreamed you said it? Hermione, I... I love you, you know. You don't realize what you just did to me tonight. You bound me to you. I won't be able to let you go now. You're just going to have to put up with me as long as I'm alive. I'll have to hang on and hang around you whether you want me or not. I'll have to do all sorts of crazy things just to prove to you I love you, and you'll laugh at me, but I won't mind. I'll just... just be beside you whenever you need someone to tell you the truth. You know, that you're a goddess, that you're perfect, that kind of stuff. I look at you, and all I can think about is you and me sitting in our rockers in our backyard, laughing about how our grandkids have grown, and wasn't it just yesterday when you and me and Harry drank that awful polyjuice potion because there was a basilisk loose at Hogwarts... I'm bound to you, and I don't mind. It feels so good to belong to someone like you. I'm yours now... I always was. Oh sure, roll your eyes at me... I love your eyes... they tell me how warm and kind you really are, even when all the world sees you only as a bookworm."
He was drifting off to sleep. "Please dream of me... You don't have to be in my dreams, you know, you're already in my blood," were his last words that night.