A/N: Thanks to everyone who leaves feedback! It means the world!
Disclaimer: They're not mine!
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"Midnight is never going to get here." Ron sighed dejectedly as he peered into the Granger's refrigerator and rolled his eyes. "And I'm bloody going to starve to death waiting for it."
Hermione glared sharply at the back of his head before shoving him out of the way. "Don't swear," she said pointedly, reaching into the refrigerator for a bottle of apple juice. "And there's plenty of food."
Ron gave her his own sharp look before shoving her right back and taking back possession of his spot in front of the open door. He looked in at the 'food' and rolled his eyes again. "You, shut up because you swear all the time now," he said briskly. She mumbled something about bad influences and spending too much time with foul-mouthed boys. Ron laughed loudly but went right on. "And this is not food, Hermione. This is..." He searched for the right words. "This is a rabbit's grocery store."
Hermione gave a sound that was a mix somewhere between a snort, a hiccup, and a giggle. Ron turned his head and peered at her on instant, raising his eyebrows in question.
"What the hell was that?"
She put a hand to her mouth, her cheeks flushed, and she gave another giggle. "I don't know."
He grinned. "Do it again. It's cute."
Hermione turned pink and dropped her hand. "Shut up," she said importantly. "And shut the door; you're wasting electricity."
Ron turned back to the fridge. "I haven't gotten anything yet."
"Then get something," she said briskly.
Ron stared at the shelves again and shook his head in slight disbelief. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that the inside of her family's refrigerator looked like a rabbit's grocery store. The shelves were filled with raw vegetables and all sorts of healthy looking things that didn't look appetizing in the least. The closest things he could find to something that could pass for halfway decent were a few cartons of fat- free, sugar-free yogurt. It wasn't exactly his idea of a great snack, but it was the best he had, so he grabbed a raspberry flavored yogurt and shut the door.
"You know what?" he asked seriously as he pilled the lid off and fumbled into a drawer for a spoon. "I always figured Harry was so skinny because his cousin always ate all the food in the house. But I never could figure out why you were so thin." He glanced briefly in the direction of the now closed refrigerator. "Now I know why. You've been suffering from malnutrition all your life. Your parents have been starving you."
Somehow, Hermione managed to make the same snorty, hiccuppy, giggly sound that she'd made a minute earlier. Her hand immediately flew to her mouth again in shock, and she and Ron both erupted in a delayed laughter.
"How do you do that?" Ron asked through laughter.
Hermione was now beet red, and she shrugged. "I don't know."
Ron's eyes widened dramatically, and he held a hand to his heart in mock surprise. "Oh, my God. Say that again."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Did you just say, 'I don't know'?" He said the final three words slowly, enunciating them each clearly. "I need something to write with- this could be a way for me to get something into Hogwarts, A History! Hermione Granger doesn't know..."
Hermione glared at him before pushing him roughly and telling him to shut up for what seemed like the thousandth time that evening. "I don't really like you sometimes," she said stubbornly, turning her back on him and crossing her arms over her chest.
Ron snickered. But he decided to play along. "Oh, come on, Hermione," he said coaxingly. "I'll give you some of my yogurt if you say you'll still be my friend..." He waved the spoon around her shoulder in temptation.
She pushed his hand away and turned back around. "First of all, my parents bought that yogurt," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a sling of the head. "And second of all, I don't want any of it."
Ron smirked. "Okay, I'll give you some of your parents' yogurt, then..." He waved the spoonful of pink in front of her again. "Mmm... It's good, Hermione..."
She pursed her lips and reached for the container, which she raised to her eyes and read from the label. "It has no sugar. And no fat. Surely, you didn't just say it was good."
"I meant that you would like it," he said, grinning. "It has all the ingredients that you love in food. Bland, blander, and blandest."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You are such a prat."
Ron laughed out loud at this and held the spoon out to her for a final time. "Last chance, 'Mione."
She glared at him.
Ron shrugged. "Oh, well. You had your opportunity," he said airily. And with that, he simply proceeded to shove the spoon at her face, getting pink yogurt all over her pursed lips and the tip of her nose and earning a rather indignant gasp from her.
"Ugh! You're so... so..." She broke off and sent him another furious glare.
"So what?" he prompted between laughing at her. "So brilliant? So handsome? So wonderful? So perfect?" He laughed again. "Shall I go on?"
"You better go on somewhere," she said warningly. "Before I murder you."
Ron laughed and watched as she raised a hand to her mouth to wipe it clean. Her forefinger caught a bit of the yogurt on her lower lip, and she quickly stuck it into her mouth to taste it.
"Hmm," she mumbled absently. "That's actually not half bad."
Ron watched even more closely as the tip of her tongue darted out and licked at some more of the bottom lip. He wasn't laughing anymore.
He was mesmerized.
"I want to taste it," he said quietly. And before either of them could comprehend what he was about to do, he'd done just that. Closing the short little distance that stood between them, Ron placed his hands on her hips and bent down to lick lightly at her upper lip for just a second before catching her up in a kiss that was far sweeter than the sugar-free yogurt they were both tasting on their tongues. He marveled slightly at how easy it was just to kiss her.
He really marveled at how she never pulled away.
It was such an odd but wonderful feeling, kissing Hermione. He couldn't quite get used to the fact that he was allowed to do it. Or that she seemed to enjoy it just as much as he did. It had been just a week since they'd shared their first kiss on Christmas, but they'd known each other for so long, knew each other so well, that it didn't matter how much or how little experience was shared between them. They were comfortable with each other and comfortable with the pace that things were moving.
Of course, this didn't mean that Ron didn't think about moving a little more quickly. He'd been wanting to kiss her subconsciously for four years now- suppressed memories of how badly he'd wanted to try the 'Sleeping Beauty/Snow White' wake-up technique on a twelve year old Petrified Hermione had somehow snuck their way back into his mind recently. And now that he'd finally had the chance to kiss her, now that he knew how soft her lips were and how gently and shyly she used her tongue to explore his own, he wanted to hold her and give her a proper kiss. A real kiss.
He wanted to kiss her the way that Seamus kissed Lavender and the way Harry kissed Gia.
The sweet, innocent, exploration was nice. He liked it- very much so, in fact. But he definitely wouldn't have protested if she suddenly wanted to, oh, say snog for a bit.
Or awhile.
Or a long time.
He pushed these thoughts out of his head, though, as he pulled away from the kiss and grinned at her. Her lips were now clean of all remnants of the snack, and she smiled back at him in a way that clearly let him know she had forgotten that she was supposed to be angry at him.
She was definitely very cute.
And she had no bloody clue.
There was the slightest trace of yogurt still on her nose, and Ron raised his eyebrows just slightly as he reached out a single finger and wiped it away. "All clean," he announced, pointing the finger as proof.
Hermione raised her own eyebrows just as slightly and leaned forward just enough to place her lips over the last bit of raspberry and suck it gently from the tip of his fingertip.
This simple and seemingly uneventful act stirred something horribly hormonal in Ron, and he couldn't help the way his brain flashed the fact that her parents were gone. For the whole night. It seemed as if a neon sign was blazing in his brain.
And he wasn't sure that this was a good thing.
But if opportunity was going to present itself... Well, this was pretty much as open as it got. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were out until sometime the next day. Harry had run off to Gia's to do God only knows what since her parents were out of town, too. So, that just left him and Hermione. Alone. Together.
Bless New Year's Eve parties.
Bless Gia Martin.
Really bless Gia Martin. If it weren't for her, he might not have gotten the chance to kiss Hermione at all. If she hadn't somehow captured Harry under some completely unmagical spell, there might have been no time for such blatantly obvious and open opportunities.
Bless her, bless her, bless her.
If he hadn't fallen so hard for Hermione already, he might have claimed to love the curly little blonde headed Muggle.
"What time is it?" Hermione asked, suddenly bringing him out of his momentary reverie of blessing his best friend's new 'acquaintance.'
He glanced at his watch. "9:46."
She groaned loudly. "You're right. Midnight is never going to get here!"
Ron could hardly believe his luck; this was just too good. Feigning another look of shock, he said, "First 'I don't know...' and then..." he shook his head slightly in disbelief. "And then... 'You're right...' Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?"
Hermione glared sharply at him before moving to slug him. He caught her wrist, though, and pulled her toward him, the fingers of his other hand wriggling dangerously close to her belly in a threat of tickling. She yelped and yanked free of his grasp, not even looking back as she shot out of the room. He was right behind her, chasing her into the sitting room and watching as she leapt over the back of the couch and used it as a shield between them.
He stopped and grinned at her. "Hey, that was pretty impressive," he said honestly. "I didn't know you could jump like that."
She smirked triumphantly. "There's lots of things you don't know about me."
"I know enough," he replied mischievously. "I know that you can recite every textbook that we've ever had by heart. I know that you hate pickles and that black olives make you sick. Hmm..." He pretended to think for a moment of other things that he knew about her. "I know that you're allergic to lamb's wool. I know that your favorite subject is Arithmancy and your least favorite subject is or rather was Divination. I know that your main goals in life, as of this moment, are to get the highest number of O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in the history of Hogwarts, to free all the world's house-elves, and to graduate valedictorian of our class. Beyond that, you have no clue what you want to do. I know that yellow is your favorite color and that although you pretend to detest the color pink, you really have a soft spot for it. I know that you secretly kept all of Lockhart's books and that silly Get Well card he sent you, though I've yet to figure out where you've hidden all of that stuff." He grinned widely. "I know that you used to be a beautiful little ballerina and that, though you claim to have hated ever second of it, you will always be that precious little dancer at heart." He snickered and finished with one final bit of knowledge. "And I know that even though you say you don't remember how to play the piano, that you at least remember nine Christmas carols."
Hermione tried to look stern, but she ended up giggling despite herself. "Well, you do know a bit, don't you?"
Ron nodded seriously. "Yes. And in addition to all that, I know your full name, your parents' names, where you grew up, what school you go to, who your best friends are, your pets' names, and your birth date. What else do I need to know?"
She smiled back at him, obviously unable to pretend that she wasn't amused. "I can't think of anything else of importance," she said, playing along with a twinkle in her eyes. "But I know a bit about you, too."
"Oh, really?" Ron raised his eyebrows at her in question.
She smirked and nodded. "I know your favorite food is treacle tart and that you secretly enjoy the way Hagrid prepares it- all hard and sticky. I know that you support a hopeless Quidditch team but that you will never stray from being their hugest fan. I know that your heart was broken when you were five and your poor pet Puffeskin, Bogey- how fitting," she rolled her eyes slightly, "was used as a cruel double for a Bludger. I know that you cheated on our first ever Transfiguration exam because I watched you and came horribly close to telling on you. I know that you broke my self- inking quill when we were twelve even though you wouldn't admit to it. I know that the smell of rosemary makes you sneeze." She grinned wickedly on her short, dramatic pause. "And I know that you played with Barbie dolls when you were younger."
Ron was impressed, though not entirely at ease that she knew it had been him that had broken her brand new quill on the first day of Christmas holiday their second year. "Well, you know your own little bit, don't you?"
She nodded. "Yes. And, in addition to all of those things," she mocked his words, "I know several others. I know your full name, I know your parents' names, where you grew up, the name of every pet you've ever owned, I know where you go to school and who your best friends are, I know your birthday, and I know the full names of every single one of your siblings."
He looked up at her last claim and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Prove it," he insisted stubbornly.
"Prove what?"
"That you know all my siblings' full names." Ron wasn't even sure that he could name them all off, and he was willing to bet that Hermione was simply saying something to make her feel knowledgeable. Well, he'd called her bluff.
Surprisingly, though, Hermione nodded slightly and drew in a deep breath. "William Arthur Weasley," she stared out slowly. "Charles Anthony Weasley, Percival Christopher Weasley, Frederick Christian Weasley, George Andrew Weasley..." She paused dramatically for a moment and finally finished with, "And Virginia Charlotte Weasley! Ha! I told you!"
Ron stood in half-shock that she actually really did know all his siblings' names. "How do you remember all that?" he asked in awe.
She shrugged. "My memory is good," she said airily.
"Well, you do have all one-thousand, four-hundred, and sixty-two pages of Hogwarts, A History memorized..." he teased.
Hermione's face brightened, though, and she looked at him strangely. "You know how many pages are in Hogwarts, A History?"
He laughed at her expression. "Yep. I even read a bit of the first chapter one night when I couldn't sleep."
Hermione giggled. "Well, I am quite impressed."
Smirking, Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I guess we know each other pretty well, huh?"
She shrugged, too. "Yeah, guess we do."
"I can jump the sofa, too, you know?" he asked and did just that before she had time to react. They were standing towards each other now, and Ron thought fleetingly about how beautiful she was just dressed in a faded pair of jeans and the sweater his mum had knitted for her. And her hair was curly- it looked amazing.
"Let's do something," she announced out of nowhere.
Ron could think of several things he would like to do, but he wasn't quite sure that Hermione would agree to too many of them, and the ones she might have considered, he was too nervous to suggest. "Chess?" he offered casually.
Hermione's eyes narrowed on instant. "I do not want to play chess," she said haughtily.
"Why not?" he asked innocently; he loved to watch her get all upset about her rather lacking chess-skills. It never failed to amuse him.
"Because I don't feel like getting my ego squashed," she said pointedly.
Ron smirked. "Why, my ego usually feels quite wonderful after a game against you."
She glared at him. "I can't imagine why," she said droningly.
He laughed and gave in. "Okay, so what do you want to do?" He prayed that she would suggest even the most innocent of his original thoughts.
She didn't. "Let's gossip."
He looked at her, wondering what in the world she was on about. "Gossip?!"
She sat down on the sofa and nodded. "Yes. We never gossip- it will be fun."
Okay... He wasn't sure where she was coming from with this, but he was rather amused at the change about. Usually, Hermione chided people for doing such silly things as spreading rumors. Sitting down beside her, he shrugged. "Okay, you go first."
"Why do I have to go first?"
"Because you live with Parvati and Lavender," he said pointedly. "Don't tell me you don't know tons of good gossip."
She smiled, her top row of perfect teeth jutting out of her lower lip just slightly. "Okay. Did you hear about Lisa Turpin and Johnson McClellan?"
Of course he'd heard about them. The whole school knew that Professor Flitwick had caught them coming back into the Ravenclaw Common Room at five o'clock in the morning after staying gone all night. "Hermione, that's old news," he said dejectedly.
She rolled her eyes. "Well, did you know that they broke up the next night?"
"How do you know?" From what he'd heard, they weren't letting Flitwick's knowledge of their relationship stop them from continuing to take nightly strolls together. In fact, he'd heard that they'd spent the whole night in the Dungeons the night before Christmas break.
"Because Padma told Parvati. Lisa and Padma are really close, remember?"
Ron had no idea who Padma was or was not close to. All he knew about Padma was that she had dumped him in lieu of a Beaubaton's boy the night of the Yule Ball. He shrugged anyway, though, and waited for her to go on.
"Well, apparently, Johnson asked Mallory Lenoir to meet him by Greenhouse Two that night, and Mallory told him off and then went and told Lisa. And Lisa broke up with him, of course, and now she's sort of dating Ryan Cremmings from Hufflepuff."
"What do you mean 'sort of' dating?"
"Well, I think they quite enjoy each other's tonsils," she said with a slight giggle. "But I don't think it goes much further."
Ron laughed, more at the giggle she'd just given than at the news. "Well, speaking of Padma... Do you want to know what Dean said about her?"
Hermione nodded.
Ron snickered and went on. "He said that she and Parvati are completely identical- down to a small triangle of freckles on the lower right hand part of their stomach."
Hermione pursed her lips. "He's lying."
"How do you know?"
"Because how would he know anything like that about Parvati?"
Ron just raised his eyebrows.
Hermione shook her head. "No. Parvati hasn't... done that... with anyone. Especially not her sister's boyfriend." She turned a slight shade of red at the mention of 'that.'
Ron was quite intrigued. So, the girls discussed 'that.' Hmm... There was an interesting sentiment.
"And plus," she went on, "Parvati doesn't even have any freckles on her stomach."
Now, Ron was very intrigued. Not able to hide the look on his face, he once again said, "How do you know?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've lived with her for five years. I've seen her stomach plenty of times."
"You've seen her naked?!" Ron could barely believe how quickly several images entered his mind.
Apparently, Hermione was not the least bit amused, and she looked at him with a single cocked eyebrow that let him know in no uncertain terms that she was definitely not even commenting on the wanderings of his immature boy mind.
But Ron couldn't help it. Sure, he and his roommates had changed hundreds of times in front of each other, so he wasn't quite sure why it surprised him to know that the girls did. But it was different. With the boys, it was like... Neville and Dean and Seamus and Harry. It definitely wasn't Parvati, Lavender, and Hermione. Now, there was something to think about! He suddenly realized a few wonderful new uses of the Invisibility Cloak...
"Anyway," she went on haughtily. "Dean is lying. And I'm going to tell Parvati he said that."
This suddenly killed the rather entertaining picture in his mind. "What?! You can't tell Parvati!"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Why do you even care?"
"Because she's my friend."
"Well, Dean's my friend."
"Well, he's a liar." She crossed her arms and stared at him, as if daring him to say something else.
Ron thought for a counter to that but only came up with, "I thought you didn't even like Parvati."
She looked strangely offended. "I have never said I didn't like her. I hate when people assume stuff."
"Well, you don't hang out with her," he said in his own defense.
"You have no idea what I do when you're not around. I've shared a room with her since I was ten years old; I'm pretty sure we've hung out enough."
Ron wasn't quite sure how this had suddenly turned into an argument. And maybe it wasn't a full-blown argument yet, but he'd had plenty of experience with full-blown arguments against Hermione and he could spot the warning signs rather quickly. He didn't want to fight with her- not when they had to spend the entire night alone together.
Especially not when they were getting to spend the night alone...
"Okay, sorry," he said quickly, not quite sure what he was apologizing for and praying that she wouldn't ask him what he was sorry about. "Just please don't tell Parvati because then Dean will know I told and he'll get mad at me."
Hermione's face softened just a bit, but she didn't back down. "Well, he shouldn't say stuff like that about her. He's never done anything like that with her, and I'm willing to bet he hasn't done anything like that with Padma, either. Or else I would have heard about it."
Ron nodded. "Okay, so what if I tell him to shut up next time he mentions it? Will you just not tell Parvati? Please?"
She sighed but finally gave in. "Okay, fine. But if he ever says anything else, I'm telling her."
"Fair enough," Ron said, knowing fully-well that if Dean ever said anything else about it, Hermione would most definitely not be finding out. "So," he added in an attempt to get off the subject, "do you know any other good things?"
She smiled rather devilishly and nodded. "Yeah..."
"Well?" he prodded, his curiosity piqued.
"Malfoy hooked up with Bridget Vemmingmore."
"What?!" Ron looked at her in disbelief. "She's a Seventh Year!"
Hermione gave a full-blown smile and tossed her hair away from her face. "I know! And," she went on coaxingly, "they got caught!"
Ron felt like Christmas had come early. "By who?!"
Hermione giggled and took a second. "By Professor McGonagall."
"You are shitting me!" he exclaimed giggly. "When?! Where were they?!"
"They were in her classroom! And she walked in to get some papers and saw them. It was two nights before we left."
"Why the hell haven't you told me this before now?!"
"Because talking about people isn't nice," she said ironically.
Ron shook his head in confusion. "It's Malfoy!"
She snickered. "I know. That's why I don't feel bad."
Ron still couldn't believe it. "You're seriously telling the truth?"
"Yes," she said briskly. "That's why Malfoy fell asleep in Potions on the last day- McGonagall had them scrubbing her classroom all night long!"
Ron snorted. This was simply too good to be true... "Well, why didn't it get around the school?"
"Because Malfoy apparently didn't tell a soul. He's probably scared of his father or something, I don't know," she shrugged. "And Bridget only told her best friend, Emily Harrison, because she was probably embarrassed that Malfoy's only fifteen."
"Well, how did you find out?"
"Because she told her in the fourth floor girls' toilets. And Lavender happened to be in one of the stalls..."
"I can't believe this!" Ron couldn't even believe how happy he felt hearing about Malfoy's misfortune. "So, Lavender just told you and Parvati?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes. But we're going to start letting it slip after Christmas, so feel free to accidentally drop it to Harry and Seamus and Dean and Neville and anyone else you know." Her eyes twinkled slightly. "Actually, I don't think it would be too much of a pity if Fred and George found out..."
Ron laughed out loud. "Well, I'm sure they'll get the news somehow."
She smiled. "What time is it?"
Ron checked his watch again and frowned. "10:48. We still have over an hour."
"Let's play Slap," she suggested brightly.
"What, the card game?"
"No, the hand game."
Ron paused for a moment and thought about that sentence. Playing hand games with Hermione could certainly be entertaining...
"You know," she went on, obviously not picking up on his mental pictures, "the game where you put your hands on top of each other and try to slap the other person's hands."
Ron suddenly realized what she was talking about. "Oh, yeah."
Hermione held her hands out, palm up. "I get to go first because I'm younger," she said with a grin.
Ron eyed her, strangely reminded of Ginny, and placed his own hands on top of hers. They situated themselves Indian-style and facing towards each other on the couch. Ron watched Hermione's face as she studied his hands for a long moment, then she looked up and smiled at him. He smiled back; he couldn't help it. Of course, she chose the exact moment that he grinned to bring her left hand up and across to slap his right.
"Ha!" she cried triumphantly. "I get a point."
Ron stared down at their hands for a moment and then looked back up at her grumpily. "It'll be the last one," he said meaningfully, taking the opportunity to place his hands underneath her own for his turn.
He studied them for a minute. Her hands were tiny, especially compared to his own large ones. Looking back up, he kept eye-contact with her for a long moment before pouncing and flipping both of his hands over to hit hers.
She looked quite shocked at not being able to predict his action and stared at her hands in disbelief.
"Two points!" he exclaimed proudly. "I'm winning."
She glared at him and promptly switched their positions. Without even hesitating, she suddenly wrapped her fingers around one of his hands and used her other to smack it before he could pull away.
"Now, we're tied," she said smoothly.
"That's not fair!" he protested at once. "You can't cheat!"
"Why not?" she questioned airily. "You try to cheat off of me all the time."
"That's on schoolwork," he said with a roll of the eyes. "This is something important!"
Hermione snorted. "You whine too much."
Offended at having been called a whiner, Ron shut his mouth immediately. Instead, he grudgingly held his hands roughly out and waited for her to place hers on top of his. When she did, he proceeded to grab onto both of them from underneath.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "There's no way you can get any points if you don't have a free hand to do the slapping."
However, Ron wasn't really too worried about winning points anymore. His mind was on a different type of scoring, and his eyes were on a very full pair of cherry-red lips.
"I don't care," he mumbled, suddenly yanking her forward and pressing his lips to hers before she could protest. He didn't care about the stupid game. He was kissing her. He'd been waiting to kiss her. And she was beautiful.
And, best of all, she was kissing him back.
Ron could hardly think when she took advantage of their still joined hands and pulled hers back, pulling his whole body with them. She was leaned against the side of the couch, and he was sprawled on top of her all in one movement. He couldn't even comprehend how they'd gotten there until a second later when Hermione pulled out of the kiss and turned her head.
"Lean up," she whispered in a hoarse voice that sounded nothing at all like she normally did. "This hurts." Ron silently cursed any and everything that he could think of but leaned up nonetheless. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to sit up with him and go back to 'normal,' but she didn't. Instead, he watched as a still cross-legged Hermione, flattened one leg out against the cushion and then swung her other off the side of the sofa. He himself was on his knees and watched her curiously, still expecting her to sit up, but rather than do that, she only leaned up far enough to grasp his forearms and pull him towards her, bringing them both back to a reclining position. "Much better," she whispered in that same hoarse voice before putting a hand behind his head and kissing him again.
Ron barely had time to send a mental retraction of his words to all those that he'd just cursed seconds before.
He was fascinated by a million things all at once. He marveled at the way he wasn't crushing her, despite the difference in their sizes. He couldn't believe how incredibly soft her cheek was against his hand. He wondered how in the world he'd gone five whole years and never done this with her before. And he could hardly comprehend the fact that she was actually letting him lie on top of her and kiss her so deeply.
It was mad.
And he loved it.
Pulling up from the kiss to allow them both the opportunity to breathe for a second, he grinned briefly, noticing the way the brown in her eyes seemed to glisten with highlights in the same subtle way that her hair did in the right light. God, how in the world did she get so pretty?
"Gorgeous," he mumbled quietly next to her ear, not really caring that his mouth was working without the consent of his mind. At least it was being honest. "Bloody gorgeous."
Hermione muttered something incomprehensible, but he knew for sure that it wasn't a chiding for his use of language. He watched as her eyes fluttered shut and then his own eyes swept over the area of skin right below the ear he was whispering in. Not able to stand it any longer, he pressed his lips lightly to her neck. Then, encouraged by the soft little humming sound that he heard coming from somewhere deep inside of her throat, he proceeded to lift the skin between his lips and gently suck on it. Wondering briefly if he could leave a mark, he continued, vaguely thinking but not really caring that her parents would likely see it. All he cared about at the moment was her; actually, he couldn't even comprehend that anything or anyone else even existed.
She moved just a tiny bit underneath him and turned her head to draw his lips away from her neck and back to her own, and Ron felt himself react almost violently. He kissed her deeply; it was harder and rougher than any of the other kisses they'd shared, but she didn't seem to mind. Instead, he felt her hands wander from the back of his head down his back. Her fingernails barely grazed his spine, but he could feel everywhere she touched him perfectly; it was as if his senses were heightened even through the thick jumper he wore. Letting one of his own hands wander lazily down the side of her arm, he used his other to finger the area of her neck, noticing all too well the way her head seemed to move on instinct to the wanderings of his fingertips.
All too soon, the need for oxygen set in again, and they pulled apart. However, this time, Hermione lifted her head just slightly and kissed his chin, letting her lips move aimlessly down his jaw line as he turned his head to accommodate her movements. When she hit a rather sensitive patch of skin just below his own ear, he couldn't even think straight. He managed to choke out a strangled, "Hermione..." that sounded nothing at all like him. But he didn't care; all he knew was that nothing had ever sounded as perfect as her name did at that moment.
Apparently, she thought so, too.
With what could only be considered a whimper, she kissed him again- a real kiss that left him breathless and wondering how he'd gone for so long without kissing her. Perfect, she was perfect.
Life was perfect.
After several more minutes, though, she ended it, pulling away from a rather heated kiss and breathing heavily for several seconds.
"Okay, we need to stop," she said breathlessly, shaking her head slightly as if attempting to make her sudden ceasing make better sense.
It didn't make sense to Ron at all. If he had his way, they'd never move from where they were right now. He could spend forever kissing her, and he wanted to let his hands engage in an exploration of areas other than her arms and her face.
He didn't want to stop.
But when he kissed the corner of her mouth, she didn't respond. Instead, she turned her head to the side and wiggled a bit underneath him. Ron dropped his face to the cushion of the couch beside her head and squeezed his eyes shut as she pushed as his shoulders and said, "Come on, Ron. Get off."
He literally had to bite his tongue to keep from saying that he was incredibly close to doing just that. He somehow didn't think that she would appreciate a comment like that at all- even if it was all her fault. Grinding his back teeth into each other, he sighed loudly as he sat up. Hermione pulled herself into a sitting position, too, and they stared at each other for several moments.
Did she have any idea at all how hard it was for him to stop? It was literally hurt, and he somehow figured that she had no clue that he was actually in pain. But he'd wanted her for a long time, whether he'd admitted it to himself or not. He'd wanted her for a long time, and now that he had her, he wasn't about to do anything to screw it up. No matter how badly he wanted to keep going.
He'd wait forever if that's what it took.
Hermione drew in a rather long and staggering breath before finally speaking. "What time is it?"
Ron looked down and glanced at his watch. He looked back up, offering her a grin to let her know that things were fine. "11:59."
She smiled back. "It's almost midnight."
And as the clock struck twelve, she leaned over and gave him a slow, sweet kiss that he cherished.
When she pulled back and smiled shyly at him, blushing a slight pink, he realized that all the waiting they'd done on midnight had been well-worth it.
He realized something else, too.
There were other things worth waiting on. And she was one of them.
**************************
Comments are adored!!!
Disclaimer: They're not mine!
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"Midnight is never going to get here." Ron sighed dejectedly as he peered into the Granger's refrigerator and rolled his eyes. "And I'm bloody going to starve to death waiting for it."
Hermione glared sharply at the back of his head before shoving him out of the way. "Don't swear," she said pointedly, reaching into the refrigerator for a bottle of apple juice. "And there's plenty of food."
Ron gave her his own sharp look before shoving her right back and taking back possession of his spot in front of the open door. He looked in at the 'food' and rolled his eyes again. "You, shut up because you swear all the time now," he said briskly. She mumbled something about bad influences and spending too much time with foul-mouthed boys. Ron laughed loudly but went right on. "And this is not food, Hermione. This is..." He searched for the right words. "This is a rabbit's grocery store."
Hermione gave a sound that was a mix somewhere between a snort, a hiccup, and a giggle. Ron turned his head and peered at her on instant, raising his eyebrows in question.
"What the hell was that?"
She put a hand to her mouth, her cheeks flushed, and she gave another giggle. "I don't know."
He grinned. "Do it again. It's cute."
Hermione turned pink and dropped her hand. "Shut up," she said importantly. "And shut the door; you're wasting electricity."
Ron turned back to the fridge. "I haven't gotten anything yet."
"Then get something," she said briskly.
Ron stared at the shelves again and shook his head in slight disbelief. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that the inside of her family's refrigerator looked like a rabbit's grocery store. The shelves were filled with raw vegetables and all sorts of healthy looking things that didn't look appetizing in the least. The closest things he could find to something that could pass for halfway decent were a few cartons of fat- free, sugar-free yogurt. It wasn't exactly his idea of a great snack, but it was the best he had, so he grabbed a raspberry flavored yogurt and shut the door.
"You know what?" he asked seriously as he pilled the lid off and fumbled into a drawer for a spoon. "I always figured Harry was so skinny because his cousin always ate all the food in the house. But I never could figure out why you were so thin." He glanced briefly in the direction of the now closed refrigerator. "Now I know why. You've been suffering from malnutrition all your life. Your parents have been starving you."
Somehow, Hermione managed to make the same snorty, hiccuppy, giggly sound that she'd made a minute earlier. Her hand immediately flew to her mouth again in shock, and she and Ron both erupted in a delayed laughter.
"How do you do that?" Ron asked through laughter.
Hermione was now beet red, and she shrugged. "I don't know."
Ron's eyes widened dramatically, and he held a hand to his heart in mock surprise. "Oh, my God. Say that again."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Did you just say, 'I don't know'?" He said the final three words slowly, enunciating them each clearly. "I need something to write with- this could be a way for me to get something into Hogwarts, A History! Hermione Granger doesn't know..."
Hermione glared at him before pushing him roughly and telling him to shut up for what seemed like the thousandth time that evening. "I don't really like you sometimes," she said stubbornly, turning her back on him and crossing her arms over her chest.
Ron snickered. But he decided to play along. "Oh, come on, Hermione," he said coaxingly. "I'll give you some of my yogurt if you say you'll still be my friend..." He waved the spoon around her shoulder in temptation.
She pushed his hand away and turned back around. "First of all, my parents bought that yogurt," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a sling of the head. "And second of all, I don't want any of it."
Ron smirked. "Okay, I'll give you some of your parents' yogurt, then..." He waved the spoonful of pink in front of her again. "Mmm... It's good, Hermione..."
She pursed her lips and reached for the container, which she raised to her eyes and read from the label. "It has no sugar. And no fat. Surely, you didn't just say it was good."
"I meant that you would like it," he said, grinning. "It has all the ingredients that you love in food. Bland, blander, and blandest."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You are such a prat."
Ron laughed out loud at this and held the spoon out to her for a final time. "Last chance, 'Mione."
She glared at him.
Ron shrugged. "Oh, well. You had your opportunity," he said airily. And with that, he simply proceeded to shove the spoon at her face, getting pink yogurt all over her pursed lips and the tip of her nose and earning a rather indignant gasp from her.
"Ugh! You're so... so..." She broke off and sent him another furious glare.
"So what?" he prompted between laughing at her. "So brilliant? So handsome? So wonderful? So perfect?" He laughed again. "Shall I go on?"
"You better go on somewhere," she said warningly. "Before I murder you."
Ron laughed and watched as she raised a hand to her mouth to wipe it clean. Her forefinger caught a bit of the yogurt on her lower lip, and she quickly stuck it into her mouth to taste it.
"Hmm," she mumbled absently. "That's actually not half bad."
Ron watched even more closely as the tip of her tongue darted out and licked at some more of the bottom lip. He wasn't laughing anymore.
He was mesmerized.
"I want to taste it," he said quietly. And before either of them could comprehend what he was about to do, he'd done just that. Closing the short little distance that stood between them, Ron placed his hands on her hips and bent down to lick lightly at her upper lip for just a second before catching her up in a kiss that was far sweeter than the sugar-free yogurt they were both tasting on their tongues. He marveled slightly at how easy it was just to kiss her.
He really marveled at how she never pulled away.
It was such an odd but wonderful feeling, kissing Hermione. He couldn't quite get used to the fact that he was allowed to do it. Or that she seemed to enjoy it just as much as he did. It had been just a week since they'd shared their first kiss on Christmas, but they'd known each other for so long, knew each other so well, that it didn't matter how much or how little experience was shared between them. They were comfortable with each other and comfortable with the pace that things were moving.
Of course, this didn't mean that Ron didn't think about moving a little more quickly. He'd been wanting to kiss her subconsciously for four years now- suppressed memories of how badly he'd wanted to try the 'Sleeping Beauty/Snow White' wake-up technique on a twelve year old Petrified Hermione had somehow snuck their way back into his mind recently. And now that he'd finally had the chance to kiss her, now that he knew how soft her lips were and how gently and shyly she used her tongue to explore his own, he wanted to hold her and give her a proper kiss. A real kiss.
He wanted to kiss her the way that Seamus kissed Lavender and the way Harry kissed Gia.
The sweet, innocent, exploration was nice. He liked it- very much so, in fact. But he definitely wouldn't have protested if she suddenly wanted to, oh, say snog for a bit.
Or awhile.
Or a long time.
He pushed these thoughts out of his head, though, as he pulled away from the kiss and grinned at her. Her lips were now clean of all remnants of the snack, and she smiled back at him in a way that clearly let him know she had forgotten that she was supposed to be angry at him.
She was definitely very cute.
And she had no bloody clue.
There was the slightest trace of yogurt still on her nose, and Ron raised his eyebrows just slightly as he reached out a single finger and wiped it away. "All clean," he announced, pointing the finger as proof.
Hermione raised her own eyebrows just as slightly and leaned forward just enough to place her lips over the last bit of raspberry and suck it gently from the tip of his fingertip.
This simple and seemingly uneventful act stirred something horribly hormonal in Ron, and he couldn't help the way his brain flashed the fact that her parents were gone. For the whole night. It seemed as if a neon sign was blazing in his brain.
And he wasn't sure that this was a good thing.
But if opportunity was going to present itself... Well, this was pretty much as open as it got. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were out until sometime the next day. Harry had run off to Gia's to do God only knows what since her parents were out of town, too. So, that just left him and Hermione. Alone. Together.
Bless New Year's Eve parties.
Bless Gia Martin.
Really bless Gia Martin. If it weren't for her, he might not have gotten the chance to kiss Hermione at all. If she hadn't somehow captured Harry under some completely unmagical spell, there might have been no time for such blatantly obvious and open opportunities.
Bless her, bless her, bless her.
If he hadn't fallen so hard for Hermione already, he might have claimed to love the curly little blonde headed Muggle.
"What time is it?" Hermione asked, suddenly bringing him out of his momentary reverie of blessing his best friend's new 'acquaintance.'
He glanced at his watch. "9:46."
She groaned loudly. "You're right. Midnight is never going to get here!"
Ron could hardly believe his luck; this was just too good. Feigning another look of shock, he said, "First 'I don't know...' and then..." he shook his head slightly in disbelief. "And then... 'You're right...' Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?"
Hermione glared sharply at him before moving to slug him. He caught her wrist, though, and pulled her toward him, the fingers of his other hand wriggling dangerously close to her belly in a threat of tickling. She yelped and yanked free of his grasp, not even looking back as she shot out of the room. He was right behind her, chasing her into the sitting room and watching as she leapt over the back of the couch and used it as a shield between them.
He stopped and grinned at her. "Hey, that was pretty impressive," he said honestly. "I didn't know you could jump like that."
She smirked triumphantly. "There's lots of things you don't know about me."
"I know enough," he replied mischievously. "I know that you can recite every textbook that we've ever had by heart. I know that you hate pickles and that black olives make you sick. Hmm..." He pretended to think for a moment of other things that he knew about her. "I know that you're allergic to lamb's wool. I know that your favorite subject is Arithmancy and your least favorite subject is or rather was Divination. I know that your main goals in life, as of this moment, are to get the highest number of O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in the history of Hogwarts, to free all the world's house-elves, and to graduate valedictorian of our class. Beyond that, you have no clue what you want to do. I know that yellow is your favorite color and that although you pretend to detest the color pink, you really have a soft spot for it. I know that you secretly kept all of Lockhart's books and that silly Get Well card he sent you, though I've yet to figure out where you've hidden all of that stuff." He grinned widely. "I know that you used to be a beautiful little ballerina and that, though you claim to have hated ever second of it, you will always be that precious little dancer at heart." He snickered and finished with one final bit of knowledge. "And I know that even though you say you don't remember how to play the piano, that you at least remember nine Christmas carols."
Hermione tried to look stern, but she ended up giggling despite herself. "Well, you do know a bit, don't you?"
Ron nodded seriously. "Yes. And in addition to all that, I know your full name, your parents' names, where you grew up, what school you go to, who your best friends are, your pets' names, and your birth date. What else do I need to know?"
She smiled back at him, obviously unable to pretend that she wasn't amused. "I can't think of anything else of importance," she said, playing along with a twinkle in her eyes. "But I know a bit about you, too."
"Oh, really?" Ron raised his eyebrows at her in question.
She smirked and nodded. "I know your favorite food is treacle tart and that you secretly enjoy the way Hagrid prepares it- all hard and sticky. I know that you support a hopeless Quidditch team but that you will never stray from being their hugest fan. I know that your heart was broken when you were five and your poor pet Puffeskin, Bogey- how fitting," she rolled her eyes slightly, "was used as a cruel double for a Bludger. I know that you cheated on our first ever Transfiguration exam because I watched you and came horribly close to telling on you. I know that you broke my self- inking quill when we were twelve even though you wouldn't admit to it. I know that the smell of rosemary makes you sneeze." She grinned wickedly on her short, dramatic pause. "And I know that you played with Barbie dolls when you were younger."
Ron was impressed, though not entirely at ease that she knew it had been him that had broken her brand new quill on the first day of Christmas holiday their second year. "Well, you know your own little bit, don't you?"
She nodded. "Yes. And, in addition to all of those things," she mocked his words, "I know several others. I know your full name, I know your parents' names, where you grew up, the name of every pet you've ever owned, I know where you go to school and who your best friends are, I know your birthday, and I know the full names of every single one of your siblings."
He looked up at her last claim and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Prove it," he insisted stubbornly.
"Prove what?"
"That you know all my siblings' full names." Ron wasn't even sure that he could name them all off, and he was willing to bet that Hermione was simply saying something to make her feel knowledgeable. Well, he'd called her bluff.
Surprisingly, though, Hermione nodded slightly and drew in a deep breath. "William Arthur Weasley," she stared out slowly. "Charles Anthony Weasley, Percival Christopher Weasley, Frederick Christian Weasley, George Andrew Weasley..." She paused dramatically for a moment and finally finished with, "And Virginia Charlotte Weasley! Ha! I told you!"
Ron stood in half-shock that she actually really did know all his siblings' names. "How do you remember all that?" he asked in awe.
She shrugged. "My memory is good," she said airily.
"Well, you do have all one-thousand, four-hundred, and sixty-two pages of Hogwarts, A History memorized..." he teased.
Hermione's face brightened, though, and she looked at him strangely. "You know how many pages are in Hogwarts, A History?"
He laughed at her expression. "Yep. I even read a bit of the first chapter one night when I couldn't sleep."
Hermione giggled. "Well, I am quite impressed."
Smirking, Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I guess we know each other pretty well, huh?"
She shrugged, too. "Yeah, guess we do."
"I can jump the sofa, too, you know?" he asked and did just that before she had time to react. They were standing towards each other now, and Ron thought fleetingly about how beautiful she was just dressed in a faded pair of jeans and the sweater his mum had knitted for her. And her hair was curly- it looked amazing.
"Let's do something," she announced out of nowhere.
Ron could think of several things he would like to do, but he wasn't quite sure that Hermione would agree to too many of them, and the ones she might have considered, he was too nervous to suggest. "Chess?" he offered casually.
Hermione's eyes narrowed on instant. "I do not want to play chess," she said haughtily.
"Why not?" he asked innocently; he loved to watch her get all upset about her rather lacking chess-skills. It never failed to amuse him.
"Because I don't feel like getting my ego squashed," she said pointedly.
Ron smirked. "Why, my ego usually feels quite wonderful after a game against you."
She glared at him. "I can't imagine why," she said droningly.
He laughed and gave in. "Okay, so what do you want to do?" He prayed that she would suggest even the most innocent of his original thoughts.
She didn't. "Let's gossip."
He looked at her, wondering what in the world she was on about. "Gossip?!"
She sat down on the sofa and nodded. "Yes. We never gossip- it will be fun."
Okay... He wasn't sure where she was coming from with this, but he was rather amused at the change about. Usually, Hermione chided people for doing such silly things as spreading rumors. Sitting down beside her, he shrugged. "Okay, you go first."
"Why do I have to go first?"
"Because you live with Parvati and Lavender," he said pointedly. "Don't tell me you don't know tons of good gossip."
She smiled, her top row of perfect teeth jutting out of her lower lip just slightly. "Okay. Did you hear about Lisa Turpin and Johnson McClellan?"
Of course he'd heard about them. The whole school knew that Professor Flitwick had caught them coming back into the Ravenclaw Common Room at five o'clock in the morning after staying gone all night. "Hermione, that's old news," he said dejectedly.
She rolled her eyes. "Well, did you know that they broke up the next night?"
"How do you know?" From what he'd heard, they weren't letting Flitwick's knowledge of their relationship stop them from continuing to take nightly strolls together. In fact, he'd heard that they'd spent the whole night in the Dungeons the night before Christmas break.
"Because Padma told Parvati. Lisa and Padma are really close, remember?"
Ron had no idea who Padma was or was not close to. All he knew about Padma was that she had dumped him in lieu of a Beaubaton's boy the night of the Yule Ball. He shrugged anyway, though, and waited for her to go on.
"Well, apparently, Johnson asked Mallory Lenoir to meet him by Greenhouse Two that night, and Mallory told him off and then went and told Lisa. And Lisa broke up with him, of course, and now she's sort of dating Ryan Cremmings from Hufflepuff."
"What do you mean 'sort of' dating?"
"Well, I think they quite enjoy each other's tonsils," she said with a slight giggle. "But I don't think it goes much further."
Ron laughed, more at the giggle she'd just given than at the news. "Well, speaking of Padma... Do you want to know what Dean said about her?"
Hermione nodded.
Ron snickered and went on. "He said that she and Parvati are completely identical- down to a small triangle of freckles on the lower right hand part of their stomach."
Hermione pursed her lips. "He's lying."
"How do you know?"
"Because how would he know anything like that about Parvati?"
Ron just raised his eyebrows.
Hermione shook her head. "No. Parvati hasn't... done that... with anyone. Especially not her sister's boyfriend." She turned a slight shade of red at the mention of 'that.'
Ron was quite intrigued. So, the girls discussed 'that.' Hmm... There was an interesting sentiment.
"And plus," she went on, "Parvati doesn't even have any freckles on her stomach."
Now, Ron was very intrigued. Not able to hide the look on his face, he once again said, "How do you know?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've lived with her for five years. I've seen her stomach plenty of times."
"You've seen her naked?!" Ron could barely believe how quickly several images entered his mind.
Apparently, Hermione was not the least bit amused, and she looked at him with a single cocked eyebrow that let him know in no uncertain terms that she was definitely not even commenting on the wanderings of his immature boy mind.
But Ron couldn't help it. Sure, he and his roommates had changed hundreds of times in front of each other, so he wasn't quite sure why it surprised him to know that the girls did. But it was different. With the boys, it was like... Neville and Dean and Seamus and Harry. It definitely wasn't Parvati, Lavender, and Hermione. Now, there was something to think about! He suddenly realized a few wonderful new uses of the Invisibility Cloak...
"Anyway," she went on haughtily. "Dean is lying. And I'm going to tell Parvati he said that."
This suddenly killed the rather entertaining picture in his mind. "What?! You can't tell Parvati!"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Why do you even care?"
"Because she's my friend."
"Well, Dean's my friend."
"Well, he's a liar." She crossed her arms and stared at him, as if daring him to say something else.
Ron thought for a counter to that but only came up with, "I thought you didn't even like Parvati."
She looked strangely offended. "I have never said I didn't like her. I hate when people assume stuff."
"Well, you don't hang out with her," he said in his own defense.
"You have no idea what I do when you're not around. I've shared a room with her since I was ten years old; I'm pretty sure we've hung out enough."
Ron wasn't quite sure how this had suddenly turned into an argument. And maybe it wasn't a full-blown argument yet, but he'd had plenty of experience with full-blown arguments against Hermione and he could spot the warning signs rather quickly. He didn't want to fight with her- not when they had to spend the entire night alone together.
Especially not when they were getting to spend the night alone...
"Okay, sorry," he said quickly, not quite sure what he was apologizing for and praying that she wouldn't ask him what he was sorry about. "Just please don't tell Parvati because then Dean will know I told and he'll get mad at me."
Hermione's face softened just a bit, but she didn't back down. "Well, he shouldn't say stuff like that about her. He's never done anything like that with her, and I'm willing to bet he hasn't done anything like that with Padma, either. Or else I would have heard about it."
Ron nodded. "Okay, so what if I tell him to shut up next time he mentions it? Will you just not tell Parvati? Please?"
She sighed but finally gave in. "Okay, fine. But if he ever says anything else, I'm telling her."
"Fair enough," Ron said, knowing fully-well that if Dean ever said anything else about it, Hermione would most definitely not be finding out. "So," he added in an attempt to get off the subject, "do you know any other good things?"
She smiled rather devilishly and nodded. "Yeah..."
"Well?" he prodded, his curiosity piqued.
"Malfoy hooked up with Bridget Vemmingmore."
"What?!" Ron looked at her in disbelief. "She's a Seventh Year!"
Hermione gave a full-blown smile and tossed her hair away from her face. "I know! And," she went on coaxingly, "they got caught!"
Ron felt like Christmas had come early. "By who?!"
Hermione giggled and took a second. "By Professor McGonagall."
"You are shitting me!" he exclaimed giggly. "When?! Where were they?!"
"They were in her classroom! And she walked in to get some papers and saw them. It was two nights before we left."
"Why the hell haven't you told me this before now?!"
"Because talking about people isn't nice," she said ironically.
Ron shook his head in confusion. "It's Malfoy!"
She snickered. "I know. That's why I don't feel bad."
Ron still couldn't believe it. "You're seriously telling the truth?"
"Yes," she said briskly. "That's why Malfoy fell asleep in Potions on the last day- McGonagall had them scrubbing her classroom all night long!"
Ron snorted. This was simply too good to be true... "Well, why didn't it get around the school?"
"Because Malfoy apparently didn't tell a soul. He's probably scared of his father or something, I don't know," she shrugged. "And Bridget only told her best friend, Emily Harrison, because she was probably embarrassed that Malfoy's only fifteen."
"Well, how did you find out?"
"Because she told her in the fourth floor girls' toilets. And Lavender happened to be in one of the stalls..."
"I can't believe this!" Ron couldn't even believe how happy he felt hearing about Malfoy's misfortune. "So, Lavender just told you and Parvati?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes. But we're going to start letting it slip after Christmas, so feel free to accidentally drop it to Harry and Seamus and Dean and Neville and anyone else you know." Her eyes twinkled slightly. "Actually, I don't think it would be too much of a pity if Fred and George found out..."
Ron laughed out loud. "Well, I'm sure they'll get the news somehow."
She smiled. "What time is it?"
Ron checked his watch again and frowned. "10:48. We still have over an hour."
"Let's play Slap," she suggested brightly.
"What, the card game?"
"No, the hand game."
Ron paused for a moment and thought about that sentence. Playing hand games with Hermione could certainly be entertaining...
"You know," she went on, obviously not picking up on his mental pictures, "the game where you put your hands on top of each other and try to slap the other person's hands."
Ron suddenly realized what she was talking about. "Oh, yeah."
Hermione held her hands out, palm up. "I get to go first because I'm younger," she said with a grin.
Ron eyed her, strangely reminded of Ginny, and placed his own hands on top of hers. They situated themselves Indian-style and facing towards each other on the couch. Ron watched Hermione's face as she studied his hands for a long moment, then she looked up and smiled at him. He smiled back; he couldn't help it. Of course, she chose the exact moment that he grinned to bring her left hand up and across to slap his right.
"Ha!" she cried triumphantly. "I get a point."
Ron stared down at their hands for a moment and then looked back up at her grumpily. "It'll be the last one," he said meaningfully, taking the opportunity to place his hands underneath her own for his turn.
He studied them for a minute. Her hands were tiny, especially compared to his own large ones. Looking back up, he kept eye-contact with her for a long moment before pouncing and flipping both of his hands over to hit hers.
She looked quite shocked at not being able to predict his action and stared at her hands in disbelief.
"Two points!" he exclaimed proudly. "I'm winning."
She glared at him and promptly switched their positions. Without even hesitating, she suddenly wrapped her fingers around one of his hands and used her other to smack it before he could pull away.
"Now, we're tied," she said smoothly.
"That's not fair!" he protested at once. "You can't cheat!"
"Why not?" she questioned airily. "You try to cheat off of me all the time."
"That's on schoolwork," he said with a roll of the eyes. "This is something important!"
Hermione snorted. "You whine too much."
Offended at having been called a whiner, Ron shut his mouth immediately. Instead, he grudgingly held his hands roughly out and waited for her to place hers on top of his. When she did, he proceeded to grab onto both of them from underneath.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "There's no way you can get any points if you don't have a free hand to do the slapping."
However, Ron wasn't really too worried about winning points anymore. His mind was on a different type of scoring, and his eyes were on a very full pair of cherry-red lips.
"I don't care," he mumbled, suddenly yanking her forward and pressing his lips to hers before she could protest. He didn't care about the stupid game. He was kissing her. He'd been waiting to kiss her. And she was beautiful.
And, best of all, she was kissing him back.
Ron could hardly think when she took advantage of their still joined hands and pulled hers back, pulling his whole body with them. She was leaned against the side of the couch, and he was sprawled on top of her all in one movement. He couldn't even comprehend how they'd gotten there until a second later when Hermione pulled out of the kiss and turned her head.
"Lean up," she whispered in a hoarse voice that sounded nothing at all like she normally did. "This hurts." Ron silently cursed any and everything that he could think of but leaned up nonetheless. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to sit up with him and go back to 'normal,' but she didn't. Instead, he watched as a still cross-legged Hermione, flattened one leg out against the cushion and then swung her other off the side of the sofa. He himself was on his knees and watched her curiously, still expecting her to sit up, but rather than do that, she only leaned up far enough to grasp his forearms and pull him towards her, bringing them both back to a reclining position. "Much better," she whispered in that same hoarse voice before putting a hand behind his head and kissing him again.
Ron barely had time to send a mental retraction of his words to all those that he'd just cursed seconds before.
He was fascinated by a million things all at once. He marveled at the way he wasn't crushing her, despite the difference in their sizes. He couldn't believe how incredibly soft her cheek was against his hand. He wondered how in the world he'd gone five whole years and never done this with her before. And he could hardly comprehend the fact that she was actually letting him lie on top of her and kiss her so deeply.
It was mad.
And he loved it.
Pulling up from the kiss to allow them both the opportunity to breathe for a second, he grinned briefly, noticing the way the brown in her eyes seemed to glisten with highlights in the same subtle way that her hair did in the right light. God, how in the world did she get so pretty?
"Gorgeous," he mumbled quietly next to her ear, not really caring that his mouth was working without the consent of his mind. At least it was being honest. "Bloody gorgeous."
Hermione muttered something incomprehensible, but he knew for sure that it wasn't a chiding for his use of language. He watched as her eyes fluttered shut and then his own eyes swept over the area of skin right below the ear he was whispering in. Not able to stand it any longer, he pressed his lips lightly to her neck. Then, encouraged by the soft little humming sound that he heard coming from somewhere deep inside of her throat, he proceeded to lift the skin between his lips and gently suck on it. Wondering briefly if he could leave a mark, he continued, vaguely thinking but not really caring that her parents would likely see it. All he cared about at the moment was her; actually, he couldn't even comprehend that anything or anyone else even existed.
She moved just a tiny bit underneath him and turned her head to draw his lips away from her neck and back to her own, and Ron felt himself react almost violently. He kissed her deeply; it was harder and rougher than any of the other kisses they'd shared, but she didn't seem to mind. Instead, he felt her hands wander from the back of his head down his back. Her fingernails barely grazed his spine, but he could feel everywhere she touched him perfectly; it was as if his senses were heightened even through the thick jumper he wore. Letting one of his own hands wander lazily down the side of her arm, he used his other to finger the area of her neck, noticing all too well the way her head seemed to move on instinct to the wanderings of his fingertips.
All too soon, the need for oxygen set in again, and they pulled apart. However, this time, Hermione lifted her head just slightly and kissed his chin, letting her lips move aimlessly down his jaw line as he turned his head to accommodate her movements. When she hit a rather sensitive patch of skin just below his own ear, he couldn't even think straight. He managed to choke out a strangled, "Hermione..." that sounded nothing at all like him. But he didn't care; all he knew was that nothing had ever sounded as perfect as her name did at that moment.
Apparently, she thought so, too.
With what could only be considered a whimper, she kissed him again- a real kiss that left him breathless and wondering how he'd gone for so long without kissing her. Perfect, she was perfect.
Life was perfect.
After several more minutes, though, she ended it, pulling away from a rather heated kiss and breathing heavily for several seconds.
"Okay, we need to stop," she said breathlessly, shaking her head slightly as if attempting to make her sudden ceasing make better sense.
It didn't make sense to Ron at all. If he had his way, they'd never move from where they were right now. He could spend forever kissing her, and he wanted to let his hands engage in an exploration of areas other than her arms and her face.
He didn't want to stop.
But when he kissed the corner of her mouth, she didn't respond. Instead, she turned her head to the side and wiggled a bit underneath him. Ron dropped his face to the cushion of the couch beside her head and squeezed his eyes shut as she pushed as his shoulders and said, "Come on, Ron. Get off."
He literally had to bite his tongue to keep from saying that he was incredibly close to doing just that. He somehow didn't think that she would appreciate a comment like that at all- even if it was all her fault. Grinding his back teeth into each other, he sighed loudly as he sat up. Hermione pulled herself into a sitting position, too, and they stared at each other for several moments.
Did she have any idea at all how hard it was for him to stop? It was literally hurt, and he somehow figured that she had no clue that he was actually in pain. But he'd wanted her for a long time, whether he'd admitted it to himself or not. He'd wanted her for a long time, and now that he had her, he wasn't about to do anything to screw it up. No matter how badly he wanted to keep going.
He'd wait forever if that's what it took.
Hermione drew in a rather long and staggering breath before finally speaking. "What time is it?"
Ron looked down and glanced at his watch. He looked back up, offering her a grin to let her know that things were fine. "11:59."
She smiled back. "It's almost midnight."
And as the clock struck twelve, she leaned over and gave him a slow, sweet kiss that he cherished.
When she pulled back and smiled shyly at him, blushing a slight pink, he realized that all the waiting they'd done on midnight had been well-worth it.
He realized something else, too.
There were other things worth waiting on. And she was one of them.
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