Chapter Five

Unless…

Ron jumped out of bed and strode toward the bathroom door, but before he could open it, the rational side of his brain forced him to reconsider. Instead, he pressed his ear against the door, hoping to get some clue as to how he should act. He heard nothing helpful, however; just the sound of water being turned off and soft splashes.

She really is taking a bath. At least she's not crying, anyway. But you honestly didn't expect that, did you? Ron considered going back to bed and waiting for her to finish, but a little voice in the back of his brain seemed rather insistent that he go in and talk to her. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

"Hermione?" He heard another splash, louder this time.

"Ron?"

"Can I, er…come in?"

"Oh…of course…it's unlocked."

He opened the door, half-dreading what he would find, not really knowing what he was afraid of, but her warm smile was enough to reassure him immediately. Otherwise, she looked pretty much as he had always fantasized that she would look whenever she finished up a night with, 'Goodnight boys, I'm off to soak in the tub.'

Actually, she looked even better than he had imagined; though if he was going to be honest, in his fantasy the bubbles did not completely cover her breasts. He hadn't imagined that she would have her hair piled up on top of her head in that sexy one-pin-out-and-the-whole-thing-will-come-tumbling-down way, either. And her skin, flushed from the heat of the water, was far better than he had imagined. Weasley, you need to focus on the problem and stop waxing poetic about her, you great poncy git.

"Ron?"

Stop standing there like a gaping fish and say something.

"Is there something you wanted?"

You. Preferably in the tub. Just as soon as I can manage it again. And then, maybe up on the counter, in front of the mirror.

"Uh, just checking up on you." Smooth, Weasley, really smooth.

"I thought you would be asleep."

"Uh, no. I just didn't realize…I mean, you didn't say anything about taking a bath."

"I know. Call me mental, but I just couldn't sleep when I was sticky like that. Plus I thought perhaps that a bath would help me relax."

Ten points to Gryffindor. Because, clearly, she is not relaxed. "Are you…is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no, not at all. Well, actually…don't laugh, Ron, but I started thinking, about…What I mean is, I took the potion earlier tonight, but I started thinking, and I came in here and did the charm, too."

Ron actually did laugh, but she didn't seem to mind, because as he was laughing, he said, "Yeah, I reckon that was a good idea, knowing my family history. And I don't think I'm quite ready for the 'Mum, Dad, Hermione and I have exciting news' conversation just yet."

She shuddered in response, and he let himself walk further into the bathroom, sitting down on the closed toilet seat (obeying the little voice in the back of his head, which told him that he wasn't done yet.) "So you're all right, then, yeah?"

"Just fine, Ron. Really, really happy."

He grinned, but somehow he knew that the little voice would not shut up so easily. He sat down on the floor at the edge of the tub, placing his hands on her shoulders and squeezing.

"Oh, that's lovely," she sighed.

Ron began to massage her shoulders in earnest. "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Was it…what we did...was it what you were expecting?"

"Sort of. But then again, some of it was a little different than I expected. And a lot of it was far better than I expected," she said, and Ron resisted the urge to strut around, smirking like a redheaded Malfoy.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, Ron."

The little voice reminded him that she said 'a lot of it' which clearly meant; 'not everything,' and he knew that he was not off the hook yet. "But, did you…I mean, what made it better than you expected?"
She laughed, and he felt her shoulders shaking under his hands. "Are you asking me to look over your homework again, Ron Weasley?"

Yes, please. And I'd appreciate it if you'd give me an 'Exceeds Expectations', or, even better, an 'Outstanding.' He used his thumbs to massage her neck, trying desperately to think of a question that would result in his desired answer without actually having to ask the question he was too embarrassed to ask. "No, not really, but…I'm trying to find out…what in particular you enjoyed, I reckon. What parts…"

"Oh. Well…" She sat up, turning around until she was facing him with her arms crossed on the edge of the tub. "Being close to you, I suppose. Being…connected, like that. The way I felt when you touched me. The way you reacted when I touched you. The look on your face at the end, that was really…well, brilliant, knowing that something I was doing--that we were doing together, made you that happy."

Ron kissed her again, this time on the mouth, wondering for the thousandth time what he had done to deserve her. The little voice was beginning to yell at him, though, reminding him that she hadn't described anything remotely like what he had felt at the end. Because she hadn't felt anything like it, had she?

"But, Hermione, did you get to…enjoy yourself?"

She looked confused for a moment, then smiled, and answered in a low voice, "You mean you didn't hear all that moaning?"

"Oh, yeah, I did." Damn hot, too, but it's best not to think about that right now. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to look her in the eyes. "What I meant, was; did you get to…er, finish?"

Hermione looked startled, and if he hadn't been watching her intently, he would have completely missed the flash of regret that crossed her face. But he had seen it, and the subsequent silence as she wrestled with what to say to him made it worse. He snorted and sat backwards, leaning against the bathroom wall and staring gloomily at the floor.

"No," she said, in a gentle voice. "But Ron, really; I didn't expect to. From what I've heard, nobody does on their first time."

"I did," he pointed out, still avoiding her eyes.

"That's not what I meant. Girls don't, as a rule. It's not as easy for us. And I'm so highly strung, well, let's just say, I really didn't expect to. You haven't done anything wrong, Ron."

"But, that seems a bit unfair." He looked up at her, scowling.

"Probably so, but it isn't fair that women have to go through the agony of childbirth, either. It's just the way that things are."
"Only Muggles go through agony," he pointed out.

Hermione laughed. "I'm going off on a tangent, aren't I? I think I must be channeling my feminist aunt."

"What's a feminist?"

"Something the wizarding world has no need of, thank god. I'll explain another time. At any rate…"

Ron interrupted. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"Don't you dare apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. For your information, I thought it was absolutely lovely. Perfect, really. I loved having you inside me - it felt fantastic. And as for the rest…we will have plenty of other times to get it right, won't we?"

Plenty of other times. The thought made Ron cheer up considerably. Somehow it had never occurred to him that they would get to do this again and again. With any luck, they could do it two or three times a day for the next seventy years or so - or at least until they were too old and tired to do it anymore. But there'll only be one first time, the little voice sighed.

Ron wished he was more like Hermione and had taken the time to research the whole business. How could Bill have been so insistent that a bloke should show the girl a good time if it was impossible? There had to be a way. Brushing off the idea of sending Pig off with a message for Bill, it suddenly occurred to Ron that the answer was right in front of him. Research.

"Hermione, can I ask you another question?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Have you ever…I mean, before this -er, finished?"

Hermione looked outraged. "What? How can you ask that, you know you're the first…"

"That's not what I meant!" he hurriedly interjected. I meant, you know…on your own."

Now she looked scandalized. Her mouth kept opening and closing and her cheeks were bight pink.

"I'm not asking to embarrass you or anything, Hermione. There's nothing wrong with…I mean, if it makes you feel any better, I've done it…" He broke off, feeling his ears burning.

She turned around again, resting her back against the tub and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Ron reached out to touch her hair, then slid his hand down to her shoulder again. "Lots of times," he added.

She let out a snort, but he could feel her shoulder relaxing under his hand. Finally, he heard her say, in a very small voice, "Once."

He tried his damnednest not to dwell on the mental picture that it brought to mind, but she made it bloody well impossible by continuing. "That night, last month, when you…I couldn't stop thinking about us, and then I had this dream, and then I woke up and I…"

Focus, Weasley. "The reason I ask is because I thought maybe you could, er, show me…"

"I couldn't possibly!"

"I don't mean give me a show!" Although, come to think of it…

Focus, Weasley! "I meant more like teach me--something like, yeah--practical instruction. You could show me what to do."

"I can't," she whispered desperately.

If Ron knew anything about Hermione, he knew that he would get much further by challenging her than by pleading with her. "Oh, that's bollocks and you know it, Hermione! There's nothing you like better than telling people how to do things. And now I am offering myself up as a willing student, someone who only wants to do something that will make you feel good, and you're going to get all embarrassed on me? Have you forgotten some of the things we've just done? Besides, not only have we seen each other starkers, but I've seen you with a sodding tail and whiskers and you've watched me belching up slugs. It's mad to be embarrassed about anything in front of each other after all we've been through. "

She laughed, something he took as a good omen. He slipped back behind her, wrapping his arms around her still-crossed ones. "I really wish I could have known ahead of time how to make it as bloody fantastic for you as it was for me, but I'd love the chance to make it up to you now."

She turned and kissed his cheek. "I wouldn't have liked it as much if you'd known exactly what to do, Ron. I love that we're figuring it out together."

"Well, I could have done a little homework on it - like you - but you did sort of take me by surprise. I thought I had loads more time to prepare."
"You always did put your homework off 'til the last minute," she teased.

"Yeah, but I always got it done in the end, didn't I?" he replied. "Now, finish your bath and meet me back on that bed as soon as you can."

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Ron very quickly found that he could not sit still under the covers as originally planned. It occurred to him that since this was all about making Hermione relaxed enough to really let go, a little cleaning up of himself and the sheets might be in order.

He wondered if he could manage to conjure up a bottle of wine like his brothers seemed to do so easily. However the spell - if it had ever been taught to him, was not forthcoming to his memory. He supposed that the powers-that-be at Hogwarts probably saved those sorts of spells for final year, assuming that younger students would (if able to) come to class drunk all the time. He thought he might be able to manage Summoning a bottle from downstairs but decided that that might cause too many problems in the long run. So the idea of using alcohol to relax her was out, then.

He decided that lowering the intensity of the candles couldn't hurt, however. If he was nervous about leaving his body open for inspection, Hermione might very well be, too.

His heart was racing by the time he heard the door open. She was standing there in a battered flannel dressing gown and her hair was still piled up on her head. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Hi," he said.

"Hi, yourself," she replied, and the warm smile on her face and her bright eyes went a long way toward relaxing him.

"Should I…"

"Yeah, sit down here," he said, patting the mattress near his thigh.

She complied without any fuss, and something about her, maybe it was the way that her cheeks glowed or her eyes sparkled or her hair crackled with energy, but Ron sensed that she was actually really keen to get back in the saddle again, so to speak. He wondered if 'excited' or 'relaxed' was a better goal for him to shoot for, and found himself asking, "D'you know how to conjure wine?"

"You want to drink now?"

"No, I want you to drink…or, rather, I want you to loosen up a bit. So, do you…know how to conjure wine?"

"In theory…yes…but in practice, no. And it would actually be stealing, because I would have to borrow it from downstairs."

"They wouldn't notice a glass or two…."

"But I do know how to turn water into rum."

"You do? Wasn't that what Seamus tried to do, back in…"

"That's what gave me the idea, actually. I went and looked it up."

"So, would you like a little rum?"

"Oh! Um…I guess…Why not, really?"

Ron jumped up and went to the bathroom, filling up the solitary glass that her room provided with water. He walked out and handed it to her. He left her to her task, choosing to go back in the bathroom and use the loo. As he came back in the room, he could see her draining her glass, grimacing.

"Good lord! And people drink that on purpose? "

"I reckon it takes some getting used to, Hermione."

"So why bother, then? Who wants to get addicted to something you have to force yourself to like?"

"Dunno. But I wanted you to have it because I want my…er, kisses to make you lightheaded."

"I don't need rum for that, Ron." She lowered her eyes, blushing.

"Wicked," he breathed, pulling her face between his hands and kissing her soundly. She seemed to really like it, and he could actually taste the rum in her mouth. For a few moments he considered trying to kiss her into relaxation, but reckoned that would risk him getting excited all over again. He had assumed (based upon his exhaustion of twenty minutes ago) that he couldn't count on his cock to be any use to him the second time around. That glimpse of her in the bath, however, and the shadow of her breast that he could see on the edges of her dressing gown left him wondering if he didn't have something left over after all.

He decided, however, to start on something a little safer - specifically a massage.

"Lay own on the bed and take your dressing gown off, will you?"

"Off? Can't I…?"

"I want to rub your back a little."

"Oh…How about if I just…lower it?'

"Yeah," he said as his hands covered her neck and shoulders, working on the knot of tension he found there.

"Really, Ron…this is lovely and all but at the moment I'm much more interested in kissing you."

"Oh, yeah, sure, he said, and after kissing her neck, he carefully rolled her over, covering her mouth with his. Before long, she writhed against him, pulling his head closer to hers, fastening her mouth on his greedily. His hands fumbled at her the tie of her dressing gown, opening it until there was a long narrow line of flesh in between the edges of the fabric. He ground his body against hers, testing her reaction. She seemed to like it because she lifted her hips up in response. He started to make his way down her neck, wondering if she was ever going to say a word to help him along.

She ended up opening the rest of her robe on her own, and once again, he reveled in the sensation of her skin against his.

"Where d'you want me to touch you?" he asked, and her maddening reply was…

"Anywhere—where do you want to touch me?"

Ron decided not to give up in spite of her uncharacteristic passivity. He reckoned he needed to ask really specific questions, and hoped that the bossy-know-it-all would emerge from her embarrassment sooner, rather than later. He summoned all his boldness. "D'you want me to touch between your legs, or do you want me to touch your breasts? Either is great with me, I just need to know which to start on.

"Oh…right…." She hesitated for a moment then took his hand and guided it to her breast, sighing happily as he began to knead it.

He lowered his mouth to her breast, and the sigh became a groan. Now that his head was not full of the need to climax, he had the presence of mind to listen to her reactions more carefully. He drew his tongue across her nipple, giving it the gentlest pressure possible and circling the tip with his tongue.

"D'you like that?" he asked, and she responded in more of a moan than a word. Apparently so. He blew over the moistened tip, and received in return a shudder, and an even louder moan. He had a random thought that adding ice to the equation might make the sensation even more enjoyable for her, or maybe even something warm, like caramel sauce or hot fudge. Suddenly, Ron's mind was racing with the possibilities, and he realized that a lifetime of shagging her might not be long enough to act upon all of them, but he was certainly going to enjoy trying.

He took a moment to slide his fingers over her stomach and down her thighs, enjoying the way it made her shiver. His eyes were inexorably drawn to the area between her legs. He slid his hands up, brushing a couple of fingers over her bath-damp curls. She went very still, and he looked up at her face to find her breathing hard, watching him with an expectant look on her face he licked his lips and brushed his thumb back and forth across her folds. She opened her legs further, closing her eyes.

"Don't do that," he said, sliding a fingertip towards her entrance, which, though not as wet before, was still warm and soft. "I want you to watch this. Tell me if I'm doing it right."

She laughed slightly. "You'll do, she said.

He explored her with his fingertips, finally finding one spot that seemed to make her jump off the bed. After a breathless moment, he found it again and touched her hesitantly with the pad of his thumb.

"Too much," she said, almost apologetically, and he withdrew his thumb quickly.

"No!" she said, and grasped his wrist. She closed her eyes again, but before he could protest, she had covered a few of his fingers with her own, guiding him back toward her entrance. She nudged his index finger inside of her and when she pulled it out it was glistening with moisture. She then guided his finger back to the sensitive nub that he had discovered, finally opening her eyes and looking at him pointedly.

He let out a muttered oath, feeling all of the blood in his body began racing south again He brushed his moistened fingertip over her, and she arched her back in response, groaning. He felt a triumphant smile spread over his face as he repeated the movement. Her reaction was equally as strong, but when he did it a third time, her moan sounded something like a protest. She grabbed his hand again, sliding a finger down over his index finger. This time, however, instead of moving his hand, she let her own finger circle the nub, making a strangled moan.

Fucking hell, that's hot. He repeated the movement, and her hand stayed next to his while he experimented. Sometimes she used her fingers for guidance, occasionally helping him moisten his fingers again, encouraging him to use more than one at the same time. Eventually, she seemed satisfied with the rhythm that he established and drew her hand, still moist from her own arousal, up his forearm and over her head to grasp the pillow. He watched as her breathing became labored, thoroughly enjoying the bounce of her breasts as her chest heaved. He saw her put her other hand on her breast, arching her back and nearly squirming away from his exploring fingers, which now seemed to need no assistance in keeping moist. That didn't stop him, however, from continuing to slide his fingers into her, a little further each time.

He tried to reconcile the sounds that were coming out of her mouth and the look on her face with the prissy girl that he had known since he was a kid and somehow, it all fit. This was the girl that lit up like a forest fire when talking about house elf rights. This was the girl that sent a flock of angry canaries at him in a jealous rage. He felt a wave of emotion wash over him - gratitude that she had been patient enough to look past all the mistakes he had made - bewilderment that in the end, she chose him of all people to share this with. She was fucking amazing and he didn't deserve her.

"Ron, god…feels so bloody good...so close…" she panted, and Ron felt ridiculously proud that he had managed to make her swear out loud. Her next words, however, completely floored him.

"Your mouth, Ron…I want…"

Bloody hell, is she barking mad? I'm not doing that! But he remembered how much George had laughed when Fred said something about Ron's oral fixation making some girl very happy. He had made it his business to find out from his dorm mates what Fred had meant by that, though he immediately wished he'd never asked. And then he remembered how bloody brilliant it had felt when Hermione's mouth was on him. Reminding himself of how much he loved her and summoning up every ounce of Gryffindor courage he could muster, he hesitantly lowered his mouth to her, swirling his tongue over the nub that he had discovered earlier.

Suddenly it didn't matter that he found the whole concept, well, if not disgusting, a little absurd. And it didn't matter that what he was tasting would not have been his first choice in flavors, nor that some of what he was getting all over his face had probably come from his body, too. Because Hermione absolutely went wild, and it was the most exciting thing he'd ever seen. She was grunting, and swearing, and calling out words that may have been requests or commands, but he nevertheless did his best to do what she wanted. He had two of his fingers inside of her and was sucking on the nub that she had helpfully identified as her clit, when he suddenly felt the muscles surrounding his fingers clenching and unclenching spasmodically.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, how are you doing that?" he asked.

"Shut up, I'm coming… can you… want you inside me again," she panted.

She didn't have to ask him twice. He slid up her body and slammed into her. What a difference an hour had made. There was no resistance, just hot slippery flesh, and the added bonus of the wicked involuntary spasms surrounding his cock. Hermione cried out at the contact, and once again, the sound sent him over the edge in a matter of seconds, but this time there wasn't a doubt in his mind that she was right there with him.

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She was the first to break the silence. "Uh, right, then. That was…interesting."

Ron laughed, rolling off her and laying on his back. "Never knew you knew so many dirty words, Hermione."

She turned bright red and covered her face with her hands.

"You'll never get to scold me for my language, again, Hermione." He leaned up on his elbow, reaching over to trace a circle around her breast.

"Well at least I don't use them in public!" she protested, batting his hand away.

"Let's hope my silencing spell held up, or you may actually have done all that in public, Harry included."

"Oh, god," she moaned.

"Are you referring to me, or is that just an expression?" he teased.

"You idiot!"

"And here I was thinking that I was a quick learner…"

"I think I liked it better when you fell asleep after," Hermione said, turning her back on him.

He spooned his body behind her, whispering in her ear, "How am I going to sit across from you at breakfast tomorrow, remembering all of this, and still keep a straight face?"

"Well, you'd better…Harry will know something is up!"

"Harry already knows…"

"You didn't!" she hissed, nudging him with her elbow.

Think fast, Weasley. "Well, don't you think he'll have a pretty good idea when I don't show up for bed tonight?"

"Aren't you going to?"

"No I'm waking up with you, and then we're going to do this again, maybe in the shower. And after that…I'm never sharing a room with him again."

"At the Burrow…"

"Well, maybe not then…we'll have to sneak out to the pond…You've got a sex-crazed-maniac on your hands - especially when you come apart like you just did. It's bloody brilliant – makes a bloke feel powerful."

"Don't be smug, Ron Weasley," she said, turning her head to kiss him.

"I love you, Hermione."

"Tell me something I don't know…"

Bloody-know-it-all.