Disclaimer: Still don't it. Don't worry; one day J.K. Rowling will think that it's time to hand the honor to someone else. Let's say, someone like me.
Author's Note: I felt as though my story was lacking any physical contact between Ron and Hermione. Thus, I decided to add, let's say, a little spice to the story. And this time I do provide details, for my cousin thinks it's the only way I'll be able to grow up faster if I write about it. So without further ado, I give to you,
CHAPTER XXVI: A WONDERFUL MOMENT
Ron happily walked down Diagon Alley, occasionally taking a swing at the Butterbeer he was tightly clutching onto. He was just coming from an enormous celebration hosted by all the Gryffindors he'd studied with. It had been a blast! Words simply failed him when he'd met up with all his old classmates. Five years were simply too long. He had a lot of catching up to do with his fellow friends. They'd talked, laughed, and had the time of their lives. Ron would have felt as if he was in heaven, but one thing, well not thing, but one person had been missing out on the festivities…Hermione.
He didn't know why Hermione couldn't have joined them for the party. She had simply told Harry to inform him that due to the absence from her work, she had to make up for it by completing all the delayed files. Thus, she could not make it. At first, he'd been a little upset, but then he realized she'd have to make it up to him. After all, he needed to have some time alone with her. She was and hopefully still is his girlfriend.
Feeling much better, he entered Gringotts bank. The goblins were out on their lunch break but the security goblin was patrolling the hallways. He politely asked if Hermione Granger was in. The goblin nodded his small head and toddled off. Smirking to himself, he headed in the direction of Hermione's office.
She was bent over her writing pad, her fingers writing like fire, but her eyes were far away and tired. Her legs were crossed under her, resting on the chair, while her shoulders remained hunched. He imagined the muscles that would be aching her, once she came back to earth.
She was wearing a skirt, a little leather skirt in blue that was hiked up at her thighs. Her black silk blouse was carelessly shoved up at the elbows. There was a thoughtful expression on her face and as Ron watched her work, his heart ached for her. And his loins…Ron licked his lips. He wanted to devour her completely. Inch by inch. It had been a long time since he'd last held her in his arms the way he had during their seventh year. And right now, that was all that mattered to him.
What the bloody hell would he do if she walked out of his life? He could lock her up or carry her off. He could beg or threaten. He already knew he would do whatever he could to keep her in his life.
Who had ever made him think that he would find some nice, pretty with simple tastes and a quiet life? Someone who would be content sitting at home while he worked? Who would have him and help him raise the household of children he badly wanted.
But with Hermione, nothing was simple and nothing was quiet. She would never sit at home but would badger him incessantly. As for children… He didn't know how in Merlin's name he was going to get and keep a ring on her finger; much less ask her to help him make a family.
Being in love with her left him helpless, made him stupid, brought him a kind of fear he'd never felt while fighting against Wormtail. Not fear for his life, but for his heart.
As he watched her, she stopped writing, and lifted a hand to her neck for a quick, impatient rub. Her skirt hiked higher as she shifted. It took all his control not to lick his lips. She jotted down a few quick notes, and then pulling out her wand she muttered a quick spell. A moment later, her papers were being magically edited and then written onto new papers and would only stop if she told it do so.
With a smile on his face and lust in his hear, he closed the door quietly at his back and locked it.
She jumped like a rabbit when his hands came down on her shoulders. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to sit in a chair?"
"Ron." She pressed a hand to her galloping heart. "You scared-Oh…" Her sigh was long and heartfelt as he massaged away the aches. "That's wonderful."
"You're going to do permanent damage if you keep sitting like that all day."
"I was planning on soaking in a hot tub for two or three days." She leaned into his hands.
"What are you doing here, anyway? It's lunch break"
"Ron, I had too much work to do." As the papers continued editing themselves, she closed her eyes. "I wanted to finish my work so I could spend some more time with you." She brought her hand up to one of his, skimming her fingers over it to the writs. "Harry said you were going over to his apartment after the party."
"Didn't feel like it. Decided to drop by here for a visit."
"How nice of you."
He gave a little grunt as he continued to knead her muscles. "I know. Missed you like hell, `Mione. I really wish you could have come. Party wasn't the same without you-" He broke off and gave her shoulders a hard squeeze. "I don't know how you do it. One minute I'm thinking about getting you out of these clothes and the next I'm thinking about how you can work while I'm in the room." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "No notes."
"You only think that because that's how you like me." Smiling, she tugged his hand around so that she could kiss it. She didn't know where she got the sudden courage to do that, but all her pent up emotions for him were starting to pour out. "You like me right where I am," she repeated. Turning his hand over, she pressed his lips to his palm. "I'm going to stay that way."
She felt his fingers tense, then relax slowly as he spread them over her cheek. "I was watching you while you worked."
A sudden ripple of thrill raced through her at the words and at the shimmer of desire she heard in them. "Were you?"
"And thinking." His hands lid down over her breasts. "Fantasizing."
Her head fell back against the chair. Her breath quickened. "About?"
"The things I'd like to do with you."
When she tried to shit in the chair to face him, he increased the pressure, held her still. Her dazzled eyes focused on her writing pad, which was nearing the end of her essay. She could still the ghost of herself there, and his hands moving.
Dry-mouthed, she felt his fingers undo her buttons and saw the dark shadow of his fiery red hair as he pressed a hot mouth to her throat. She lifted a hand, hooked it around his neck as she tilted her head to offer more.
"I can stop this in thirty seconds."
He bit her lightly, just above the collarbone. "I'm not going to give you a chance to shut down."
She laughed shakily, even as she lifted her other arm to capture him in a reverse embrace. "I didn't mean that."
He would have laughed himself, but he'd stopped breathing. "I know what you meant."
"But –" He slipped a hand under her skirt, and it was so sudden. Before she could gasp out in shock, he had driven her ruthlessly to the peak.
"I watched you." Each word burned his throat as she poured into his hands. "I wanted you." Half crazed, he whipped her up again, pressing his face into her neck as her body shuddered. "Do you remember the first time I ever realized I was in love with you?"
"What?" there was only this need he was ruthlessly building inside her again, a longing she'd felt after a long time. "Ron, please. Come home with me. I need-" This time she cried out as the third wave swamped her.
"I wanted you then." In one violent move, he spun her chair around and dragged her to her feet, and her already weakened system went limp at what she read in his face. "Let me show you exactly what I wanted."
This wasn't the Ron she remembered so well. This man with the fierce blue eyes and bruising hands wouldn't cuddle her; he would plunder. Whether or not she was prepared, he was showing her that reckless side of him, the one he reserved only for his enemies.
In the moment he was staring at her, the look in his eyes hot and concentrated, she understood that excitement. He fisted a hand in her hair and yanked her against his body, which was like a rock, vibrating from within, as if from an erupting volcano. For that moment, there was only the strength and fury of the inevitable.
His mouth burned over hers, his tongues diving deep, while his fee hand tugged the snap of her skirt fee. He wanted her ivory flesh. That heated silk, those alluring curves and taut muscles. Nothing mattered anymore. There was only here. Only now and only her.
Shivery fingers of fear ran up Hermione's spine. She hadn't known what it was to be wanted this way. It was so huge, so violent and yet so glorious. Before, he had given her more than she had dreamed of, even if it had been their first time. But now, he seemed compelled to give her more than she had ever dared dream.
Besides them, the quill stopped its scratching and dropped into a low hum. The thundering of her heart drowned the waiting sound out. The bright working lights overhead dimmed slightly as he took her hips and pressed her hard against him.
"You make a ware inside me," he muttered roughly as his teeth scraped roughly down her throat. "There's no end. No peace from it. Say my name. I want to hear you say my name."
"Ron." When his lips crushed down on hers again, he felt her breath it, warm, into his mouth. "Take me. Now." Her eyes fluttered, upon hearing herself say that. What was she thinking? She was in her office, for Merlin's sake.
The wild need slammed into her so that her mouth was as turbulent, her hand as frantic. Dozen of tiny explosions burst inside of her body, merging into one huge tumult of sensation that battered, bruised and bewitched her. She was quivering for him and she couldn't stop. The power and pressure growing inside of her was unbearable. Her head was spinning as she brought her mouth to his bare shoulder, savoring the taste of his flesh. His busy hands had her bearing down with teeth and nails. His breath hissed in her ear as she reached down to curl impatient fingers around him.
Confused and tangled phrases whirled in Ron's mind as he heard them burst from his lips to hang on the thick air as he fought to catch his breath. On an oath, he gripped her shoulders and hauled her back.
Hermione's face was flushed, her chocolate eyes were glowing. He'd marked his skin and could see where his fingers had pressed. But the part of him that would have been shocked by his lack of care was far overshadowed. He saw signs that made her his. Signs that only he could cause to her.
With a jerk of his head, he ran his fingers through her hair. The way he touched her brought new emotions burning in her throat. Naked, muscles bunched as if to fight, he looked so magnificent he dazzled her eyes.
Then he looked at her, and the smile that had nearly formed on her face frozen into wonder.
"No one makes you feel like this but me." The sound of his voice sent chills along her heated skin. She could only shake her head.
"No one touches you like me." He took his hands from her shoulders and gripped the bodice of her chemise. "No one but me."
"Ron-"
He shook his head. He could feel her heart pounding under his hands, and his own chest was heaving. "Do you understand me?" Her eyes widened, as without thinking about the buttons, he ripped her bloused in half. "I want all of you."
He pushed her back against the table, watching the play of stunned excitement over her face. Yes, he wanted to excite her and to shock her.
His fingers dug into her skin as he lifted her. "Hold on to me," he instructed, but her fluttering hands slid off his arms. His fingers dug into her smooth flesh. "Listen to me, `Mione."
She met his eyes then, and felt that wild whip of power. Drunk on it, she gripped his hair and wrapped her legs around him. When he plunged inside her, her body arched back, absorbing flash of heat. It was like being consumed from the inside out.
She felt the cool surface of the table against her back, then his weight on her. She wanted more, so much more. Tightening her grip around him, she matched his fast rhythm, dragging his mouth back to hers so that they could echo the intimacy with their tongues.
Ron lost himself then. Forgetting that he'd ever left this heavenly body, he desperately craved for more. Images flashed through his head, imagining what he would happen to him if he couldn't get more. He would go mad.
And he did go mad.
In a frenzy of moment, he dragged her farther onto the table, crushing papers, knocking aside empty cups, scattering quills. He couldn't take his eyes from his face, the way her eyes clouded, like fog over moss, the way her lips trembled with each gasping breath. There was a bloom on her skin now, a rose under glass. He was hammering himself into her, empowered by a rabid fury of emotion that had its razor-tipped around his throat.
Too much, Hermione thought frantically. Never enough. The harsh lights fractured into rainbows that blinded her eyes. They seemed to arch around his head, but she didn't think of angels. His eyes were dark, so fiercely resembling a raging ocean during a vicious storm. Even as her own grew leaden, she refused to close them.
She couldn't understand the words he murmured, over and over again. But, she understood those eyes. They were tearing each other apart, and yet they couldn't stop. The animal had taken over, and it had diamond-sharp claws and jagged teeth.
There was nothing left but the sound of their mixed breathing, the solid slap of flesh against flesh and the heavy scent of wanting more.
She felt his body grow rigid, felt the rippling muscles in the arms she gripped turn to stone. He groaned out her name as his eyes sharpened like daggers. When he poured himself into her, she cried out in triumph, the again in wonder as he drove her over that crumbling edge with me.
Gods, he felt her vibrating beneath him, shuddering from the aftershocks. And there were tears mixed with the dew of sweat on her face. With breath still burning in his lungs, he levered himself on his elbows and shook his head. At the movement, she made a small, whimpering sound in her throat. Trying to find the gentleness that had always been so easy for him, he shifted their position and began to stroke her hair, her shoulders, and her back.
Murmuring apologies, he cradled her like a child. "`Mione, I'm sorry. I hurt you. I must have hurt you. Don't cry."
"I'm not crying." He could feel the tears fall even as she ran kisses over his face and throat. "Just tell me you love me, Ron."
"I love you. Shh." He covered her mouth tenderly with his. "You know that."
She pressed those shaky kisses to his cheeks, to his jaw. "You have to believe that I love you too." Tearing up again, she pressed her face to his shoulder. "Even now you don't believe me, Ron."
"I believe you. You belong to me. I believe that."
"You're everything I want." She relaxed against him.
"No more tears?" She shook her head, as a small smile crept out from the corners of her mouth.
He tilted her chin to search her face. "How badly did I hurt you?" Her eyes narrowed, and her smiled widened. "How badly did I hurt you?"
"What?" Ron exclaimed. "You're not mad. But I took you on the table like a lunatic."
"I know." She sighed and stretched her body. "But it was wonderful."
"You liked it?" Ron asked, apparently amused.
She smiled and kissed his cheek. "It was like being dragged off by some mad barbarian. I couldn't even understand what you were whispering. It was exciting." She paused and then added softly, "And frightening."
"You were crying," he pointed out.
"Ron." She touched a hand to his face. "You didn't just overpower me. You overwhelmed me. No one's ever made me feel like this."
After another luxurious sigh, she glanced around the room. "I don't know how I'll work in here again."
"Maybe it'll inspire you," he replied wickedly.
"There is that," she answered lazily. "Surviving through such rough times, I'm sure you're well prepared."
He grinned mischievously. "Absolutely."
"Good." She ran her fingers over his still-gleaming chest. With a half-laugh, he caught her wrists. "Granger, wouldn't you rather pick this up in bed?"
For an answer, she leaned over, letting her lips hover a breath away from his. The tip of her tongue darted out to trace the shape of his mouth, to dip teasingly inside, then retreat. Slowly she titled her head and ever so softly she tasted his lips and gently deepened the kiss.
"Does that give you a clue, Weasley?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few hours later, Ron lay in his Hermione's bed and lazily played with the curls of her hair. Her arm was draped around his waist as she rested her head on top of his chest. She shifted her position and murmured something.
"What, Hermione?"
"I was just saying you've got a very comfortable chest."
Chuckling, he kissed the top of her head. "You're not so bad yourself." She hid her smirk before looking up at him. "Is that so?" He nodded his head and tugged at her earlobe.
"Tired?"
"Exhausted." Sighing, she rolled over and laid her head against the pillow. She was glad her children hadn't arrived back from the zoo with her parents. If they had, she would have never suggested that they come to her apartment for some private time. After the scene in her office, she would have thought that she wouldn't have the energy for anything more. But this time, it had been gentle, relaxing and almost refreshing. Sighing again, she wished nothing had ever come between them. She must have been looking quite depressed, because Ron asked, "What is it?"
"Nothing."
"C'mon, you were obviously thinking about something," he informed her.
Hermione closed her eyes and ignored his statement. Part of her wanted to forget about what had happened after he'd disappeared. The other part of her wanted to tell him about her children…his children…their children.
"Hello Hermione." She stared at him blankly. "What's wrong?" he inquired.
Sighing again, she leaned on her elbow and cupped his face in her hands. "Ron," she began cautiously.
He looked at her strangely before answering, "Yes."
"There's something I need to tell you."
"Okay," he replied slowly.
"The boy you met that night when you came over to my apartment wasn't just my son. He's your son, as well."
***
Author's Note: I felt as though my story was lacking any physical contact between Ron and Hermione. Thus, I decided to add, let's say, a little spice to the story. And this time I do provide details, for my cousin thinks it's the only way I'll be able to grow up faster if I write about it. So without further ado, I give to you,
CHAPTER XXVI: A WONDERFUL MOMENT
Ron happily walked down Diagon Alley, occasionally taking a swing at the Butterbeer he was tightly clutching onto. He was just coming from an enormous celebration hosted by all the Gryffindors he'd studied with. It had been a blast! Words simply failed him when he'd met up with all his old classmates. Five years were simply too long. He had a lot of catching up to do with his fellow friends. They'd talked, laughed, and had the time of their lives. Ron would have felt as if he was in heaven, but one thing, well not thing, but one person had been missing out on the festivities…Hermione.
He didn't know why Hermione couldn't have joined them for the party. She had simply told Harry to inform him that due to the absence from her work, she had to make up for it by completing all the delayed files. Thus, she could not make it. At first, he'd been a little upset, but then he realized she'd have to make it up to him. After all, he needed to have some time alone with her. She was and hopefully still is his girlfriend.
Feeling much better, he entered Gringotts bank. The goblins were out on their lunch break but the security goblin was patrolling the hallways. He politely asked if Hermione Granger was in. The goblin nodded his small head and toddled off. Smirking to himself, he headed in the direction of Hermione's office.
She was bent over her writing pad, her fingers writing like fire, but her eyes were far away and tired. Her legs were crossed under her, resting on the chair, while her shoulders remained hunched. He imagined the muscles that would be aching her, once she came back to earth.
She was wearing a skirt, a little leather skirt in blue that was hiked up at her thighs. Her black silk blouse was carelessly shoved up at the elbows. There was a thoughtful expression on her face and as Ron watched her work, his heart ached for her. And his loins…Ron licked his lips. He wanted to devour her completely. Inch by inch. It had been a long time since he'd last held her in his arms the way he had during their seventh year. And right now, that was all that mattered to him.
What the bloody hell would he do if she walked out of his life? He could lock her up or carry her off. He could beg or threaten. He already knew he would do whatever he could to keep her in his life.
Who had ever made him think that he would find some nice, pretty with simple tastes and a quiet life? Someone who would be content sitting at home while he worked? Who would have him and help him raise the household of children he badly wanted.
But with Hermione, nothing was simple and nothing was quiet. She would never sit at home but would badger him incessantly. As for children… He didn't know how in Merlin's name he was going to get and keep a ring on her finger; much less ask her to help him make a family.
Being in love with her left him helpless, made him stupid, brought him a kind of fear he'd never felt while fighting against Wormtail. Not fear for his life, but for his heart.
As he watched her, she stopped writing, and lifted a hand to her neck for a quick, impatient rub. Her skirt hiked higher as she shifted. It took all his control not to lick his lips. She jotted down a few quick notes, and then pulling out her wand she muttered a quick spell. A moment later, her papers were being magically edited and then written onto new papers and would only stop if she told it do so.
With a smile on his face and lust in his hear, he closed the door quietly at his back and locked it.
She jumped like a rabbit when his hands came down on her shoulders. "Didn't anyone ever teach you to sit in a chair?"
"Ron." She pressed a hand to her galloping heart. "You scared-Oh…" Her sigh was long and heartfelt as he massaged away the aches. "That's wonderful."
"You're going to do permanent damage if you keep sitting like that all day."
"I was planning on soaking in a hot tub for two or three days." She leaned into his hands.
"What are you doing here, anyway? It's lunch break"
"Ron, I had too much work to do." As the papers continued editing themselves, she closed her eyes. "I wanted to finish my work so I could spend some more time with you." She brought her hand up to one of his, skimming her fingers over it to the writs. "Harry said you were going over to his apartment after the party."
"Didn't feel like it. Decided to drop by here for a visit."
"How nice of you."
He gave a little grunt as he continued to knead her muscles. "I know. Missed you like hell, `Mione. I really wish you could have come. Party wasn't the same without you-" He broke off and gave her shoulders a hard squeeze. "I don't know how you do it. One minute I'm thinking about getting you out of these clothes and the next I'm thinking about how you can work while I'm in the room." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "No notes."
"You only think that because that's how you like me." Smiling, she tugged his hand around so that she could kiss it. She didn't know where she got the sudden courage to do that, but all her pent up emotions for him were starting to pour out. "You like me right where I am," she repeated. Turning his hand over, she pressed his lips to his palm. "I'm going to stay that way."
She felt his fingers tense, then relax slowly as he spread them over her cheek. "I was watching you while you worked."
A sudden ripple of thrill raced through her at the words and at the shimmer of desire she heard in them. "Were you?"
"And thinking." His hands lid down over her breasts. "Fantasizing."
Her head fell back against the chair. Her breath quickened. "About?"
"The things I'd like to do with you."
When she tried to shit in the chair to face him, he increased the pressure, held her still. Her dazzled eyes focused on her writing pad, which was nearing the end of her essay. She could still the ghost of herself there, and his hands moving.
Dry-mouthed, she felt his fingers undo her buttons and saw the dark shadow of his fiery red hair as he pressed a hot mouth to her throat. She lifted a hand, hooked it around his neck as she tilted her head to offer more.
"I can stop this in thirty seconds."
He bit her lightly, just above the collarbone. "I'm not going to give you a chance to shut down."
She laughed shakily, even as she lifted her other arm to capture him in a reverse embrace. "I didn't mean that."
He would have laughed himself, but he'd stopped breathing. "I know what you meant."
"But –" He slipped a hand under her skirt, and it was so sudden. Before she could gasp out in shock, he had driven her ruthlessly to the peak.
"I watched you." Each word burned his throat as she poured into his hands. "I wanted you." Half crazed, he whipped her up again, pressing his face into her neck as her body shuddered. "Do you remember the first time I ever realized I was in love with you?"
"What?" there was only this need he was ruthlessly building inside her again, a longing she'd felt after a long time. "Ron, please. Come home with me. I need-" This time she cried out as the third wave swamped her.
"I wanted you then." In one violent move, he spun her chair around and dragged her to her feet, and her already weakened system went limp at what she read in his face. "Let me show you exactly what I wanted."
This wasn't the Ron she remembered so well. This man with the fierce blue eyes and bruising hands wouldn't cuddle her; he would plunder. Whether or not she was prepared, he was showing her that reckless side of him, the one he reserved only for his enemies.
In the moment he was staring at her, the look in his eyes hot and concentrated, she understood that excitement. He fisted a hand in her hair and yanked her against his body, which was like a rock, vibrating from within, as if from an erupting volcano. For that moment, there was only the strength and fury of the inevitable.
His mouth burned over hers, his tongues diving deep, while his fee hand tugged the snap of her skirt fee. He wanted her ivory flesh. That heated silk, those alluring curves and taut muscles. Nothing mattered anymore. There was only here. Only now and only her.
Shivery fingers of fear ran up Hermione's spine. She hadn't known what it was to be wanted this way. It was so huge, so violent and yet so glorious. Before, he had given her more than she had dreamed of, even if it had been their first time. But now, he seemed compelled to give her more than she had ever dared dream.
Besides them, the quill stopped its scratching and dropped into a low hum. The thundering of her heart drowned the waiting sound out. The bright working lights overhead dimmed slightly as he took her hips and pressed her hard against him.
"You make a ware inside me," he muttered roughly as his teeth scraped roughly down her throat. "There's no end. No peace from it. Say my name. I want to hear you say my name."
"Ron." When his lips crushed down on hers again, he felt her breath it, warm, into his mouth. "Take me. Now." Her eyes fluttered, upon hearing herself say that. What was she thinking? She was in her office, for Merlin's sake.
The wild need slammed into her so that her mouth was as turbulent, her hand as frantic. Dozen of tiny explosions burst inside of her body, merging into one huge tumult of sensation that battered, bruised and bewitched her. She was quivering for him and she couldn't stop. The power and pressure growing inside of her was unbearable. Her head was spinning as she brought her mouth to his bare shoulder, savoring the taste of his flesh. His busy hands had her bearing down with teeth and nails. His breath hissed in her ear as she reached down to curl impatient fingers around him.
Confused and tangled phrases whirled in Ron's mind as he heard them burst from his lips to hang on the thick air as he fought to catch his breath. On an oath, he gripped her shoulders and hauled her back.
Hermione's face was flushed, her chocolate eyes were glowing. He'd marked his skin and could see where his fingers had pressed. But the part of him that would have been shocked by his lack of care was far overshadowed. He saw signs that made her his. Signs that only he could cause to her.
With a jerk of his head, he ran his fingers through her hair. The way he touched her brought new emotions burning in her throat. Naked, muscles bunched as if to fight, he looked so magnificent he dazzled her eyes.
Then he looked at her, and the smile that had nearly formed on her face frozen into wonder.
"No one makes you feel like this but me." The sound of his voice sent chills along her heated skin. She could only shake her head.
"No one touches you like me." He took his hands from her shoulders and gripped the bodice of her chemise. "No one but me."
"Ron-"
He shook his head. He could feel her heart pounding under his hands, and his own chest was heaving. "Do you understand me?" Her eyes widened, as without thinking about the buttons, he ripped her bloused in half. "I want all of you."
He pushed her back against the table, watching the play of stunned excitement over her face. Yes, he wanted to excite her and to shock her.
His fingers dug into her skin as he lifted her. "Hold on to me," he instructed, but her fluttering hands slid off his arms. His fingers dug into her smooth flesh. "Listen to me, `Mione."
She met his eyes then, and felt that wild whip of power. Drunk on it, she gripped his hair and wrapped her legs around him. When he plunged inside her, her body arched back, absorbing flash of heat. It was like being consumed from the inside out.
She felt the cool surface of the table against her back, then his weight on her. She wanted more, so much more. Tightening her grip around him, she matched his fast rhythm, dragging his mouth back to hers so that they could echo the intimacy with their tongues.
Ron lost himself then. Forgetting that he'd ever left this heavenly body, he desperately craved for more. Images flashed through his head, imagining what he would happen to him if he couldn't get more. He would go mad.
And he did go mad.
In a frenzy of moment, he dragged her farther onto the table, crushing papers, knocking aside empty cups, scattering quills. He couldn't take his eyes from his face, the way her eyes clouded, like fog over moss, the way her lips trembled with each gasping breath. There was a bloom on her skin now, a rose under glass. He was hammering himself into her, empowered by a rabid fury of emotion that had its razor-tipped around his throat.
Too much, Hermione thought frantically. Never enough. The harsh lights fractured into rainbows that blinded her eyes. They seemed to arch around his head, but she didn't think of angels. His eyes were dark, so fiercely resembling a raging ocean during a vicious storm. Even as her own grew leaden, she refused to close them.
She couldn't understand the words he murmured, over and over again. But, she understood those eyes. They were tearing each other apart, and yet they couldn't stop. The animal had taken over, and it had diamond-sharp claws and jagged teeth.
There was nothing left but the sound of their mixed breathing, the solid slap of flesh against flesh and the heavy scent of wanting more.
She felt his body grow rigid, felt the rippling muscles in the arms she gripped turn to stone. He groaned out her name as his eyes sharpened like daggers. When he poured himself into her, she cried out in triumph, the again in wonder as he drove her over that crumbling edge with me.
Gods, he felt her vibrating beneath him, shuddering from the aftershocks. And there were tears mixed with the dew of sweat on her face. With breath still burning in his lungs, he levered himself on his elbows and shook his head. At the movement, she made a small, whimpering sound in her throat. Trying to find the gentleness that had always been so easy for him, he shifted their position and began to stroke her hair, her shoulders, and her back.
Murmuring apologies, he cradled her like a child. "`Mione, I'm sorry. I hurt you. I must have hurt you. Don't cry."
"I'm not crying." He could feel the tears fall even as she ran kisses over his face and throat. "Just tell me you love me, Ron."
"I love you. Shh." He covered her mouth tenderly with his. "You know that."
She pressed those shaky kisses to his cheeks, to his jaw. "You have to believe that I love you too." Tearing up again, she pressed her face to his shoulder. "Even now you don't believe me, Ron."
"I believe you. You belong to me. I believe that."
"You're everything I want." She relaxed against him.
"No more tears?" She shook her head, as a small smile crept out from the corners of her mouth.
He tilted her chin to search her face. "How badly did I hurt you?" Her eyes narrowed, and her smiled widened. "How badly did I hurt you?"
"What?" Ron exclaimed. "You're not mad. But I took you on the table like a lunatic."
"I know." She sighed and stretched her body. "But it was wonderful."
"You liked it?" Ron asked, apparently amused.
She smiled and kissed his cheek. "It was like being dragged off by some mad barbarian. I couldn't even understand what you were whispering. It was exciting." She paused and then added softly, "And frightening."
"You were crying," he pointed out.
"Ron." She touched a hand to his face. "You didn't just overpower me. You overwhelmed me. No one's ever made me feel like this."
After another luxurious sigh, she glanced around the room. "I don't know how I'll work in here again."
"Maybe it'll inspire you," he replied wickedly.
"There is that," she answered lazily. "Surviving through such rough times, I'm sure you're well prepared."
He grinned mischievously. "Absolutely."
"Good." She ran her fingers over his still-gleaming chest. With a half-laugh, he caught her wrists. "Granger, wouldn't you rather pick this up in bed?"
For an answer, she leaned over, letting her lips hover a breath away from his. The tip of her tongue darted out to trace the shape of his mouth, to dip teasingly inside, then retreat. Slowly she titled her head and ever so softly she tasted his lips and gently deepened the kiss.
"Does that give you a clue, Weasley?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few hours later, Ron lay in his Hermione's bed and lazily played with the curls of her hair. Her arm was draped around his waist as she rested her head on top of his chest. She shifted her position and murmured something.
"What, Hermione?"
"I was just saying you've got a very comfortable chest."
Chuckling, he kissed the top of her head. "You're not so bad yourself." She hid her smirk before looking up at him. "Is that so?" He nodded his head and tugged at her earlobe.
"Tired?"
"Exhausted." Sighing, she rolled over and laid her head against the pillow. She was glad her children hadn't arrived back from the zoo with her parents. If they had, she would have never suggested that they come to her apartment for some private time. After the scene in her office, she would have thought that she wouldn't have the energy for anything more. But this time, it had been gentle, relaxing and almost refreshing. Sighing again, she wished nothing had ever come between them. She must have been looking quite depressed, because Ron asked, "What is it?"
"Nothing."
"C'mon, you were obviously thinking about something," he informed her.
Hermione closed her eyes and ignored his statement. Part of her wanted to forget about what had happened after he'd disappeared. The other part of her wanted to tell him about her children…his children…their children.
"Hello Hermione." She stared at him blankly. "What's wrong?" he inquired.
Sighing again, she leaned on her elbow and cupped his face in her hands. "Ron," she began cautiously.
He looked at her strangely before answering, "Yes."
"There's something I need to tell you."
"Okay," he replied slowly.
"The boy you met that night when you came over to my apartment wasn't just my son. He's your son, as well."
***