RATING: R (Or M, whatever…)

PAIRINGS: R/Hr, H/G

DISCLAIMER: I obviously don't own these character's, all credit to J.K Rowling, with the exception of those I make up.

SUMMARY: Seventh Year of Hogwarts proves difficult when Hermione and Ron come to terms with 'those' feelings, each in different ways. Can they get out of this before they sink to deep?

CHAPTER 2: Unearthed

Ron stared at the fire. It was past one in the morning, and, unable to sleep, he'd come downstairs to the fire. He sat, shirtless, wearing only his jeans, contemplating. Stockings, vanilla, coconut…the words whizzed through his mind in quick succession. It was her, the girl from the night before, the reason he had been so hard the entire day, the kinaesthetic memory of her skin on his fingertips. It was Hermione. Ron didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

All these years of wanting her, of burying his want by indulging his animalistic inclinations, of dreaming of her and only her, and last night had occurred. What did she think of him? He remembered it now, his drunken tryst with some Ravenclaw, desperately wishing that the body under his had belonged to someone else. Stumbling through the portrait, thinking of sprites. His sprite. His firey, bossy and insanely passionate sprite. His best friend.

He'd pushed her away. Refused the hugs and physical comfort he'd once taken refuge in. Because he would never, could never, be enough for her. He knew how much she deserved, how her empathy and her kindness, her strength and her brilliance, her beauty (and good lords, what beauty it was), all meant he would never be enough for her. Ron Funny old Ron. Silly and sulking and childish and immature. Getting screamed at when homework had been forgotten, getting told off for indulging in the occasional swig of whiskey. He loved every second her eyes flashed at him whilst she told him he should focus on his work more. With her around? Not bloody likely. And now...

Ron sighed. Brilliant, the one time I actually get to hold her in my arms, to feel her pressed against me, and I'm drunk. She probably thinks I'm the world's biggest git. Round of applause for Weasley.

And yet. And yet Hermione had not seemed so keen to be rid of him. In fact until she actually realized the physical effect she was having on him (he groaned, he could barely keep the blood in his veins from trying to rush to that certain body part), she had almost seemed to be enjoying herself. Ron smirked to himself. He was fairly certain he could find a way for Hermione to enjoy herself even more.

He remembered the wanton look in her eyes, lips slightly parted and soft, almost inaudible sighs escaping those lips. He could think of several things he'd like to have those lips on…DAMN! Ron stood, and angrily stomped to the boys bedrooms, preparing himself for a long night.

Hermione sighed quietly to herself, a tiny frown appearing on visage. She could not get what had happened out of her mind. Damn him. Damn him for coming in drunk. Damn him for looking so good, even, no, especially with his hair dishevelled and his eyes red from drink. Damn his hands, those long, elegant fingers. Damn the muscles in his back.

DAMN HIM!

Hermione sat quietly on the stairs, well after everyone had gone to sleep. She was attempting to think nothing, something she could rarely, if ever, manage. 'I'll have to ask Ron how to…', she almost smiled at her thought, before realizing who she had thought about.

Leave my head damnit! Rising, preparing to resign herself to sleep, to dreams, she didn't notice the figure on the other side of the common room, stomping loudly over to the stairwell.

Colliding with Ron Weasley was always an uncomfortable occurrence, but for someone as tiny as Hermione, it was downright painful. Preparing to launch into tirade at whoever had bumped into her, she found herself staring into a pair of dark blue eyes. Shirtless. Very shirtless. Hermione tried not to stare at the leanly muscled figure, broad shouldered and strong.

'Oh gods,' she thought. 'What do I do? Come on brain, work!' Well this was interesting, Ron quickly calculated the likelihood of someone coming downstairs and decided the slim chance was enough reason to be pleased she was here.

"Um, why are you up so late?" Hermione winced, even to her the words sounded forced and completely scripted. Ron smirked. So that was how she wanted to play it? As if there was nothing? His smirk deepened. Oh this was going to be fun.

"Just handling some business. Important business." Hermione regained her wits and crossed her arms. "What, another one of Ginny's suitors being 'dealt with'? Since Ginny's maturing, Ron had become even more protective. To put it kindly, there was only one man who could ever touch his sister in that way. Hopefully he'd realize it soon. In the meantime…

Well it was true. Before the fireplace brooding, he had gone to…deal…with two boys in younger grades. One of them he had discovered had tried to force Ginny into going to Hogsmeade with him. Well, he wasn't going to be doing anything of the sort for a while now. As for the other…

His over protectiveness had not stayed solely for his sister. Several times this year he'd caught wind of rumours, crushes…on Hermione. The wise man kept his feelings about Hermione to himself with Ron around.

Hermione suddenly noticed how close Ron was standing. She shifted slightly, unaware that the movement opened the upper part of her shirt slightly. Ron nearly drooled at the small expanse of flesh revealed, the soft curve accentuated by the firelight. He mentally shook himself into control. He leaned closer to her, his height and broadness overshadowing her small, slim figure.

"What are you doing?" Hermione was so confused. Here he was, her best friend, who had only last night made her feel so electric she thought she may have sparked. Only now the feeling was like warm honey being poured down her back. Again, she tried not to think of that chest and stomach, of reaching out and feeling the tough but soft skin.

"I don't know." It was the truth, he had no idea. But he knew what he wanted to. Once again he ran his hands down her back, lifting her up against the wall. This time, she felt immediately the evidence of his arousal. His eyes asked her questions, for permission, anything.

Her eyes, god those eyes and those long dark lashes, answered him. Clouded over with confusion at her body's reaction to him, he got the consent he desired. His left arm now held her in place, whilst his right was free to roam over her front. Slipping a hand under her shirt, he didn't take his eyes off her face as she moaned softly.

He gently brushed the underside of her breast, before moving his hands up to her hardened nipple. He smirked at the soft gasp his explorations elicited, as her head slipped back to rest against the wall. Suddenly his hand was off her breast, and she found herself gripping his broad shoulders, though she had no clue when she'd moved them there, with her nails. She realised how much she craved the continuance of the physical contact. He winced slightly, but more from shock than pain. In fact, gods the feel of her digging her nails into him. He'd always known she was passionate but…he reined himself in. He was really going to enjoy getting Hermione's passionate side to rear its stunning head.

He trailed his hand down, across her belly and under the school skirt she was wearing. He felt his pants tighten painfully as he moved his hand up her soft thigh, the material feel of the stockings contrasting with the silky smoothness of her legs. Hermione couldn't move. He didn't break eye contact, even when her eye lids began to lower as her stroked the outside of her panties, which he could feel soaked through with her arousal.

She sighed, louder than before, and it quickly turned to a low moan as she felt those long fingers slide inside her. Gods, she thought, what the hell am I doing? But unlike last night, she couldn't make herself leave. She felt him against her thigh, hard, and shuddered slightly. The shivers began slowly, as he stroked her from the inside, his thumb rubbing lazy circles over her clit.

Nothing was supposed to feel this good. She felt his hand tighten on her backside as he continued his slow torture of her. She felt something building, coiling inside her. Rising and building and climbing and mounting and increasing and….GODS.

Ron felt her tighten around him, her entire body stiffening up at the feel of her first orgasm. She bit her lip so hard it bled a little, to keep herself from crying out with the pleasure of it. Her nails scratched down his back as she tried to anchor herself on something, anything, before she was swept away by her own waves. He felt her suddenly go limp against him, her head rising and her eyes, still clouded with lust, locked with his.

She knew what was coming next. He gave her just long enough to recover, just long enough to be able to hold herself upright, before grinding his jean clad hips against her. She moaned, and, without any permission from her brain, her hand traced a nailed path from his shoulder to his lower abdomen.

Gods, her hand that close, he couldn't control himself anymore. He quickly reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling himself free and, with a quick look to Hermione's eyes for acquiescence, moved aside her panties and impaled her on him. He nearly gasped. She was tight, so tight, tighter than he had ever felt before. He could barely breathe, so good did it feel, so hot and…Gods so tight. He looked to Hermione's face, and his breathe caught in his throat.

The pain was exquisite. Hermione had known it would hurt, and by Gods the size of him wasn't helping, but she felt like she was stretched to the breaking point. His eyes never left her face.

Ron stopped, concerned. His size had often caused some girls alarm, indeed in was a rare occasion that he could enter immediately, but this seemed to be more. Then it hit him. "Oh Gods, Hermione…are you ok?" He couldn't believe he'd just assumed she'd already been with men. But no, his tiny, slender lover was a virgin. And yet, he couldn't apologize. For the pain he caused yes, but he could not stop the sense of fierce protective joy at being her first. It was he, Ron Weasley, that had first parted these thighs.

Hermione heard him speak, but could not comprehend his words. The pain was still present but…Gods the pleasure. Her body slowly adapted to the size of him, and she felt the same pressure building once more. Looking up into his eyes, she nodded slightly.

Slowly at first, Ron moved inside his tiny sprite. Gods he felt as if every last drop of his being, all the blood in his entire body, was rushing to there. He began to pick up pace, using one had to hold her between him and the wall and the other to tease and pinch her nipple. Her hands ran across his back, and he knew he'd have the thin nail lines for days. One hand twined in his hair, before falling to his shoulder. The other now hung limply at her side as she gave herself over to what was happening.

Ron buried his face in her neck, biting hard enough to bruise, eliciting yet another of those low, groaning moans from Hermione's parted lips. He moved faster, pumping harder and harder into her. She was now held up purely by her own leg muscles and Ron's strong arm. Her head, although still locked in eye contact with her tall lover, lolled back, and she resigned herself mentally to her own pleasure. He picked up pace, fucking her harder and harder. Gods the feeling was just on the side of pleasure, and the bites he was gracing her neck with suddenly became all she needed. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, he felt her entire body tense around his length, to the point where it was nearly unbearable. The sight of Hermione, logical, collected Hermione, with her hair in tousled disarray and her mouth forming his name as she climaxed. Ron could have come right there.

But he would hold on. He road out the duration of her orgasm, and continued fucking her until she peaked again and again, before finally, the pressure within him became to much. He pressed her, hard, against the wall, burying his head deep in the groove of her neck as he came. He'd never come so hard in his life. His roar should have been enough to wake the whole of Gryffindor. He went limp, pressing her to the wall, his sweat plastering his hair to his head, still buried inside his best friend. His stunning, passionate, beautiful best friend.

"Fuck." Hermione decided not to reprimand him from swearing, inside twining her hands in his hair and panting just as hard as he did. Slowly, his breathing steadied and he lifted his head, staring into her large, chocolate eyes, feeling decadent and satisfied beyond his wildest dreams. Slowly, he lowered her, simultaneously buttoning up his jeans. He never once left her eyes, and, reaching out a hand, tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She blushed, suddenly shy despite what had just occurred. She felt tired. Satiated and tired. The thought of the stairs was painful.

As if reading her thoughts, Ron hooked his left arm under her knees, and lifted her, supporting her back with his right. To tired to protest, and feeling a sore but pleasurable ache between her legs, she allowed him to carry her upstairs, inhaling his scent, now also mixed with the musk of their actions.

Ron breathed in her hair, the warm scent of vanilla and coconut now mingled with her musky, female smell. Gods she was perfect. Every damn thing about her was perfect. Her eyes framed by those long dark lashes, her hair slightly matted from sweat and thrown in wild disarray, her lips…

As he out her down outside the girl's dormitory, no words were said. It was not the time, reality could be returned to later. For now, there was comfort and security. Hermione shyly stood on her tiptoes to kiss Ron softly on the cheek. Even on tip toes she was still to small, so he had to bend to allow her to do it. Her soft lips brushed the side of his face, and, with this, she turned and disappeared into her room.

Slowly piecing together what had just happened, Ron found a serious anomaly. Those lips, those red, soft as rose petal, slightly swollen from her own biting lips…they hadn't kissed. He'd just been with the woman he craved most in the entire world, and they hadn't kissed.

A/N Not finished yet! But I though I'd leave a semblance of a cliffhanger…next chapter should be up soon. I'd really appreciate reviews – am I going ok?