Chapter 2
Only you and me... Or almost
Ron had been there, before. The prefect's bathroom was one of the first places he visited when he arrived at Hogwarts in his fifth year with his brand-new badge on the chest. However, he didn't use to frequent it, more than anything due to the fact of the thought that behind the door he could meet Draco Malfoy, prefect of Slytherin.
That killed the magic of the place, Ron thought to himself. I prefer to keep using the regular bathrooms, thank you.
In these moments, however, the reasons were different.
"Fermaportus!" whispered Hermione. The door of the prefects' bathroom made kind of a suction noise. She turned to Ron. "There," she said, "that'll prevent... uhm..."
"Us being surprised?" he finished. Hermione blushed.
"This is all so weird," she confessed.
Ron approached and hugged her. There was no one there to make fun of them for doing that. He stared straight into her eyes.
"I know. But we're here now. We didn't take the risk of getting down here just for nothing, right?"
"Ron..."
"Hermione..."
They kissed. They could do it. No one would mock them. Not there. The kiss was long and passionate. Stronger than any of the others. Ron's hug tightened, and it can be said only robes separated their bodies.
They separated their mouths and gazed into each other's eyes. Certainly, Ron thought, she looks much prettier up close. How come I didn't realize...?
Hermione glanced to the pool in the middle of the room. The many faucets of gold, each of them with a different kind of foam, looked inviting.
Ron also looked that direction.
"So... do we do it?" Hermione whispered.
"Whenever you want," he whispered, and kissed her again.
"Mmm... Okay... Turn around a bit, please. We already set the rules for all this," Hermione blushed, reminding him.
"Yes, yes...we did set them," murmured Ron, also blushing, and walked to the corner.
He pretended to be interested on the brick on the wall, but his ears were not his eyes and, naturally, were not listening to the bricks. No, they were quite focused on every little sound behind their owner's back.
For instance, the soft tink of Hermione's wand being put on the floor; the vague tapping of Hermione's shoes being carefully put aside; most especially the ruffle produced by the brush of Hermione's robes while being taken off and tossed to one side.
Ron felt his Adam's apple bobbing far too much.
More noises came to his ears. If she had already taken off the robe, then her shirt would follow next, or her skirt. Ron felt heat, and he had guessed with one hundred percent accuracy that his cheeks were burning hot. He distracted himself by taking a look at a picture hanging from the wall.
There was a mermaid in the frame. She was showing herself on top of her rock, giving him little giggles. He scowled, took the frame, and turned it. He smiled at the back of the frame, feeling self-sufficient.
"Ron... "
That was Hermione's voice, all right...but that was not her tone. Ron was about to turn on his heels, but discovered with surprise that, despite the orders were coming from his brain and going to his legs through a most complex nervous system (of which he had no idea of its workings), his legs refused to obey.
"Ron, you can look..."
Ron swallowed hard. He couldn't turn. It was that tone. Hermione would have ordered, or just said it once. Ron wasn't prepared to hear her voice asking nicely. There was so much sugar in those lips they would soon be full of ants and...
What the hell am I thinking? , Ron thought. Must be the nerves, yes. This was a bad idea; I'm going to tell her we are going back to the tower and ask for an apology, I can't do this. I thought I could, but no, I can't; thanks but...
A hand placed on his shoulder. Another hand did the same on the remaining one.
"Are you okay?"
... but... but... No! I can't... Yes! Yes, I can... Can't I? Yes, maybe... maybe not, of course... However, well, the thing is...
"Ron... " Hermione purred next to his ear. All what left of the mental stability of Ronald Weasley had just gone down the drain.
"Ggg..."
"What?"
"Ggg..."
"Oh."
Her hands lowered down his arms and gathered at the height of his stomach. Ron felt her body leaning on his back, and the infamous sugar lips whispering:
"I'm nervous as well, Ron. I can understand that."
Ron nodded. What he couldn't understand was that vague yet unsettling tone of voice. He felt he had to ask it, so he did.
"H-Hermione?"
"Yes?"
Ron swallowed.
"Did you do your Arithmancy homework, already?"
Silence. Hermione spoke some seconds later, her voice sounding more decided.
"What? Well, yes, I did it before coming. It consisted of three scrolls of magical equations, but I did it fast even though I delayed a bit because I also included all the steps to the problems. No one told us to do that, but I had to be sure because, well, it was important..."
Ron relaxed. Yes, that was the Hermione Granger he knew. Now that he was sure the one at his back was the person he loved, he took the necessary muscular impulse (quite difficult to achieve in situations like this) and turned on his heels with such a strength Hermione had to release him and step back.
And when she stepped back, Ron had a more than generous sight of her silhouette.
He didn't requite a mirror to see he was red. There, in front of him, was Hermione Granger like he had never seen her before. There was a woman's body under the robe, and now it has been proved. Her skin was slightly tanned, memories of vacations in France, and shape was what could be called "perfect" without taking it to any extremist side. In other words, her figure was beauty. No more and no less than beauty, and only beauty.
"Ggg..." said Ron. Hermione couldn't suppress a giggle.
"Thanks," she blushed, guessing the compliment. "I'm not that beautiful."
Thousands of thoughts shot past Ron's head: "What do you mean?" "You could win a beauty contest!" "You are the most beautiful person in this world!" Ron inhaled sharply, opened his mouth and said:
"Ggg..."
Hermione lightly blushed.
"Thanks a lot."
Ron tried it again. He gathered all the strength his nerves could contain, carefully arranged the words in his mind, did a mental revision of them, sent the message to his mouth and threatened his vocal cords with death by stabbing if from his lips came another "Ggg".
And then he spoke.
"T-that swimsuit f-fits you," he stuttered.
"Nobody ever said that to me," she smiled. In fact, she had the most important areas of her body properly censored by a swimsuit, some sort of two-piece pink bikini. They had already decided, after a long debate, that they'd have a nice bubble bath all for themselves, that night.
And nothing more than a bubble bath, remembered Ron. Nothing more, you get it? No crazy ideas, no matter how tempting. You are not old enough, so you must not even picture Hermione taking off her bikiiiiiiiiI'mnotthinkingI'mnotthinkingI'mnotthinking...
"Are you all right, Ron?" Hermione worried when Ron clamped his eyes shut and made a face that suggested he was thinking of something else.
"Yes, yes, just a bad thought. Okay, now it's my turn..."
Hermione nodded, but she didn't turn like Ron had. He had assured to her that he was wearing swimming trunks under his clothes, so he only needed to take them off to be ready.
And it better be that way, she murmured in her thoughts, because we have already decided it would be just a bubble bath. Nothing else, get it, girl? So no crazy ideas, all right? Don't even dare thinking that, after removing his clothes, he will also get rid of the swimming truuuhhhI'mnotthinkingI'mnotthinkingI'mnotthinking...
Ron had taken off the second shoe and observed Hermione's face. He was about to ask her why had she shut her eyes that way, but a last minute thought tranquillised him. Evidently, he guessed, he wasn't the only one in that room with an excess of imagination.
Once he removed it all, he said: "You can look..."
And Hermione opened her eyes, focused on her beloved...and began to lower her sight.
She threw a giggle when reaching his hips. She tried to hold it and failed miserably.
Ron also looked, and then raised his eyes at her, visibly annoyed.
"Yes, okay, I can't have the delight of new trunks, okay?"
Hermione had to look aside while she stuck her fist in her mouth. Ron was skinny and pale under the robe, and she not only found amusing his q-tip legs but also the severely patched and re-patched swimming trunks.
Ron felt frustrated. Ever since his brothers have opened the prank store, the Weasley family had had an extra income of money; and a very big one, by the way. Molly Weasley, Ron's mother, had never had real sympathy about the whole prank-selling business, although she had recently changed her mind a little bit.
His brothers had already given a new luxury robe to him, pretty nice, but in that precise moment Ron wished to trade it for a decent swim outfit. To ask the twins for beach clothing for Hogwarts would have been horribly suspicious.
"You had your fun?" he murmured, blushing slightly, while he watched Hermione twisting and squirming in laugher. It was curiously stimulating to see her do that while all she wore was a bikini, but still Ron was a little annoyed.
"S-S-Sohohohoorry-hee-heee... " she laughed. She managed a monumental effort and bent down to pick her wand up. Ron made to look away, but Hermione didn't notice.
"I can fix that," she added, straightening up and turning to him.
"Whoa, watch where you point that!" he frightened. Hermione was pointing her wand directly to that so very sensitive space of the male anatomy.
"Will you calm down? Like I would want something to happen to you... Trust me! I've been practising textile spells since I started knitting clothing for those poor house elves."
Ron consented. After all, one can hardly find pretty girls in bikini aiming their wands to that place.
"Ropareparo!" she whispered. The patches on Ron's swimming trunk fused with one other, generating a unique piece of fabric which soon turned into a glowing orange colour. "I hope you like it. You're fan of the Chubby Cannons, right?"
Ron's mouth was ready to correct her, but behaved.
"It's an old textile spell. I'm surprised your mother doesn't know it. Never mind, um..." she toyed with her wand a bit, thinking, "I think we, um... we can do it, now."
Ron nodded. They approached the faucets and, the same as Harry did in that distant fourth year, they began to turn them on and to have fun with the many effects. The difference was that they had already been in their respective prefects' bathrooms, for which the effects didn't call for their attention quite so long.
Soon the room filled up with multiple fragrances, and the hot water, hidden under a tide of beautiful bubbles and relaxing lather, reached the border of the pool. The steam choking the place was also warm, so Ron and Hermione soon felt comfortable.
They stare at each other. Smiled... took hands... and walked into the pool.
It was a synchronised movement. They both leaned their backs against the marble border and rested the backs of their heads on it. They lamented at the same time on the fact the pool was so deep, because only by standing completely straight could they keep their heads above water, and such a refreshing feeling asked them to have a seat.
A hand went around Ron's shoulder and gripped the other. He shuddered and returned the favour to Hermione. They got closer, side by side.
They took a deep breath. A slight touch of mint refreshed their lungs.
"Can you believe this?" Ron whispered. "We're alone... in a pool full of lather."
"Mmm..." was all what Hermione managed to say.
Ron smiled and couldn't help but say:
"Hermione Granger broke the rules of Hogwarts."
"Ron, don't make me break the magic, too."
There was something else in that tone. Hermione sounded serious, but there was also (and Ron could appreciate it) a small pinch of innocent seduction.
Like she would expect Ron to make her.
Ron sent an unworried giggle and thought: yeah, right, as if SHE would think that way.
"And why shouldn't I do that?" he questioned, joking.
Hermione revised and analysed the emotional content of the previous phrase. Ron had said it with a small pinch of innocent seduction.
As if he would expect Hermione to make him.
Hermione sent an unworried giggle and thought: yeah, right, as if HE would think that way.
The difference was that Hermione recalled:
But he does think that way...
And she surprised herself quite a lot when discovering that way of thinking didn't annoy her at all. In fact... she started to like it.
She shook her head. Concentrate, she said; you are a Prefect of Hogwarts and one of the best students. Don't lose your head just for a bit of bath salts and sweet fragrances. You love him, good, he loves you, very good, but that doesn't mean you have to do anything more than what you are already doing.
Ron gasped. Hermione didn't hear him.
And besides, she went on with her mental dialogue, what do you want to do? You can't do anything else. No, you don't want to do anything else. What are you thinking? You won't do anything else. Okay, kiss him; that will do. That's acceptable.
"Um... H-Hermione?"
And what's so wrong with doing something more? said a new little voice in her head. What? Oh, I can't believe I thought that. There's a lot of bad in doing something more! You start with a bubble bath wearing bikini and you end in... in... look, don't make me say it.
"Say, Hermione..."
Why? It frightens you? It scares you to say "it ends in the bed"?
"Hermione..."
Don't say that! Ron is decent. Well, he's more decent than he looks. I won't do anything of that nature until I'm old enough and have a concrete future in sight!
"Hermione, your hand..."
Don't you? What a liar. I am part of your imagination, thank you, and I've been there in all those cute thoughts before bedtime.
"Could you take your hand away?"
And who gave you permission to see those things?? Look, the fact that you are in my mind doesn't mean I am a pervert of some kind.
"Hermione, I'm serious..."
Ah, so you're not a pervert, then? Not even a bit? A little-little bitty-bit?
"Are you listening to me?"
Of course I'm not.
"Fine, have it your way... But remember you started it."
No? Then you should return to Reality and see where your hand is this very exact moment.
Hermione blinked before the declaration of her subconscious and focused in front of her again. There was a marble wall, but only now had she had seen it clearly. She noticed her hand was gripping onto something soft. She looked in that direction, but the layer of lather on the water's surface didn't allow her to look further below.
But she could feel further below.
"Ack! Ron!! " she yelped.
"What did I do? " he asked, honestly confused. "You were the first one putting a hand on my butt and..."
"What?! "
"It's true, I swear!"
Hermione hurried to remove her hand and blushed tremendously. She sunk her head into the water and wished to drown there, but it seemed like a childish attitude and emerged again.
"Are you all right?" Ron asked, worried.
"Ron..." she started. She didn't know what to say. "I'm so sorry... I don't know what I was thinking..."
Yes, you knew. Tee-hee...
"Shut up!"
"I haven't said a word!" Ron shrugged.
"Oh, no, not you..."
"I think we better return to the tower," Ron decided. "You are not okay. I think you need to sleep a bit..."
"No, it's okay..."
"... To rest, yes. We shouldn't come..."
"... I mean it, it's okay..."
"... I was a fool. I forced you to come and do this; I feel so bad..."
"Ron, I was the pervert!"
Her voice rumbled around the room. Hermione covered her mouth with both hands, swallowing some lather in the process. Ron, who was halfway out of water, looked over his shoulder at his beloved.
"No, that's not true," he said. "Just because... because... having done that, just because you did that you are not... perverted, or whatever you want to call it."
Hermione showed her back to him, not due to rancour, but embarrassment.
"Yes, I am...", she confessed in a thin thread of air which sounded slightly bubbly.
"Right, and I am the Muggle Queen of England," Ron chuckled, but stopped when Hermione did not reply. "Look, Herm...", he slipped into the water again, "I don't know what you think, but you are not like that."
Hermione didn't reply. Ron looked back and stared at the back of the mermaid's frame. He had the impression that the playful creature was listening to it all and having a hell of a fun time with it.
"You are not a pervert," he said, firmly. "You were the one who set the rules for this whole thing--like always--I mean, if it was up to me, well... er, let's leave it there, okay? I'm just trying to say that... that... if there is any pervert in this room... eh..."
Ron thought about what he was about to say, and decided he didn't have anything to lose.
"... well, that's me," he ended, and waited for the blow.
There wasn't one. Hermione turned in the water very slowly. She still had both hands to her mouth, as if trying to prevent any other inappropriate words escaping from those lips. She stared at Ron from head to neck (where the lathery water obscured any sight down below) and then spoke in a tone which was carefully and meticulously measured to be polite.
"Don't say that. You are not like that."
"Hermione, please..." Ron shown an incredulity gesture.
"Yes, all right... Maybe it's true...in part. But...", she looked aside, "...but I..."
The water in front of her agitated. A body delicately floated until stopping next to her, and two arms surrounded her with care. She wanted to look up into his eyes, more due to instinct than desire. He didn't say anything. Nothing has to be said while kissing.
"Maybe I am," she confessed after the kiss was over.
"I doubt it. At most it's probably a very serious case of runaway hormones. What? You would have said something alike."
"That's true," she smiled. That calmed Ron down, although Hermione had lowered her eyes and had leaned her chin on his shoulder.
Ron tightened the hug, raising one hand along her back and stroking it carefully. Hermione radiated an aura of thinking with all her strength. As a matter of fact, she was in the middle of a mental wrestling match.
Those hands so used to turning pages in books also climbed up his back. Strokes accepted by Ron, in spite of a hint of doubt. Hermione's thoughts were being projected by her movements.
And, finally, she spoke.
"Ron?"
"Mmm?"
"What would you do if... I told you... you can remove my bikini?"
Ron open his eyes as wide as soup dishes, and gave enormous thanks that Hermione wasn't watching his reaction. He meditated on her words for a very short second, opting to play the fool and ask:
"What? Sorry, I didn't hear quite right."
"I don't mean it all," she said, and by the tone she was blushing. "Only the... the top. I've been thinking on this, and I don't think it's right... but... I do not know what's with me. I feel this is what I want, but I don't want to admit it. Maybe you are right, Ron. Maybe it's a case of runaway hormones. But they win over me."
Ron said nothing. He didn't want to say a thing. He knew the moment he opened his mouth he will ruin everything. He was absolutely convinced that even a miserable "Ggg" would be taken the wrong way.
He waited for her to resume speaking.
"The truth is," Hermione said, "that I do have... inappropriate thoughts... about us."
"Uh, well... Since you mention it... me too. I guess it's something about our age."
"Yes... Even then...", she swam back a bit and Ron stared straight into her eyes. "Ron... I'll be honest. I love you, and I know you love me. We have risked a lot by coming here, but we really, truly wanted privacy. We have already broken several rules and have been playing with them. We are, in the middle of the night, in a hot pool, just dressed in swimming clothes," she smiled, and it was a smile that implied privacy in the sweetest of ways. "What's the problem, then, if we break the rules... just a little bit more?"
Ron considered this. She's joking on me, he thought. She's expecting me to reject it, so I will demonstrate I am not attracted physically. Yes, it's the sort of test women put on men without any specific reason. She's testing me and I am not going to fall for it. I am sure she's testing me.
Hermione smiled and floated toward him. Hugged him about his waist; glued their bodies and noses together.
"You can do it. I allow it."
But of course, Ron thought, what the hell do I know about women, anyway??
His hands poised on her hips. They started to move up in impatient expectation and soon tangled with the back knot of the bikini top. His fingers toyed a bit with it.
"Hermione..." Ron began, nervous, "... I warn you..."
She interrupted him with a kiss and a giggle.
"I trust you. Go on."
He smiled, but nervously. He took the ends of the knot with slightly jellyfied fingers and tried not to think about McGonagall's facial expression if they were ever caught... No, better not to think at all.
He was resolved. His fingers began to pull.
"Oh, come on. Take it off, already..."
Ron and Hermione quit smiling. Slowly, very slowly, they turned their heads to the wall. The girl there covered her mouth in a pretty mocking gesture.
"Whoops, sorry... Did I interrupt? I am so very sorry, really," the ghost of Moaning Myrtle apologised, yet her voice didn't sound sorry at all.
