They were bloody alive.
The sounds of the waves outside crashed steadily in the night air as Ron stared at the ceiling in the room he'd started to think of as a second home. It was over. It was actually over and here he was, listening to the same waves that he'd heard three days ago. How the hell could they sound exactly the same when everything else was so incredibly different now?
They'd won. They'd won and they were alive while He-Who-Must…oh, sod it - while VOLDEMORT wasn't. It was everything they'd fought and sacrificed so much for and yet it felt insanely fucking wrong that so many people weren't lying in their beds tonight too - wondering if this was all real. Making plans for tomorrow.
Ebb and flow. Crash and retreat. The sea was a perfect metaphor for his cycling thoughts. He was thrilled that the war was done. Over the moon that Harry was alive and they could start rebuilding a world he actually wanted to be part of.
But, Fred wasn't in it. How could there be a perfect, joyful world out there without Fred to help light it up like one of he and George's infamous fireworks?
Sighing heavily, he put his hands under his head, the soft moonlight on the ceiling casting the room in a pale, bluish light. It was soothing. Relaxing. Hermione would probably say something about the psychological effect of the color blue on the subconscious or some other such thing that she'd stored away on the subject in that brilliant head of hers.
Hermione.
His thoughts turned immediately to frustrated longing at the mere thought of her name. She was here. Right here under this roof, but Fleur had suddenly put on the "responsible adult" hat and forced them to take separate rooms for the night while Bill, Charlie and his Mum and Dad spent the night at the burrow. They wanted to make sure it was safe to bring "The Golden Trio" back to before they brought everyone home.
Ron snickered lightly at the memory from that morning of Harry's face as he'd read the new nickname the Daily Prophet had given them. His revulsion had almost made the title worth it.
His levity was short lived, however, as he thought again of Hermione - sleeping just down the hall in a room with Ginny. The idea that they all needed to cling to some antiquated notion of propriety when they'd just fought a war that had left the wizarding world in near shambles and his family irrevocably broken was beyond him.
They'd basically lived together almost the entire previous year, for fucks sake! Of course, it had been completely platonic, but for all they knew he'd been shagging Hermione senseless for months - which would make their forced separation pretty pointless.
If he was being totally honest, it hadn't been completely platonic by choice, though. He'd lost track somewhere in the third month of the mission of the amount of times he'd gotten lost in a daydream about taking her away from the tent to "gather firewood." He'd then end up having to use that very excuse to disappear for a few moments on his own to relieve the unbearable tension his fantasies would cause.
He'd returned empty handed on more than one occasion, forgetting what he'd told them he was leaving the tent for in the first place, and enduring Harry's knowing snickers.
Nights had been the worst. She'd slept so close. So unbearably close and he'd wanted to reach out and touch her, even if it was just to take her hand like he had all those nights ago in Grimmauld Place. He'd longed to climb into her cot, wrap himself around her and forget the world.
He shifted a bit as the memory of how sharp his longing had been returned full force, making his heart actually ache at the knowledge that things were different now - and yet he was still sleeping without her. Somehow, this was almost worse.
It was one thing to wish for something you thought you could never have since you were fourteen and quite another to know that having that thing was actually possible - and yet it was still just out of your reach.
Taking a stuttering breath, he closed his eyes against the hollow ache her absence had left in his chest. He wanted to be with her at the moment so badly that it was almost unbearable.
Sure, they hadn't left each other's side since Voldemort had fallen. But, there also hadn't been a single second in the last 48 hours when they'd been able to be alone either. They'd collapsed in his magically enlarged bed in Gryffindor tower that first night…with Harry and Ginny right along beside them.
Despite their company, his memory replayed how he'd waited approximately two seconds from the moment they'd climbed into bed to pull her to him. Every part of him she'd touched as he'd wrapped his arm around her middle and pressed his chest to her back had practically hummed with awareness. He'd still slept better than he had in months, his face buried in her hair, despite the fact that his desire for her had built from smoldering embers to a roaring fire.
She'd kissed him twice. Told him she loved him. He knew absolutely that she truly cared for him. He only hoped that she wanted him half as badly as he wanted her because, while he would wait as long as she wanted to, he was fairly certain that he would run mad if he couldn't be with her. Touch her.
Soon.
Suddenly, the soft click of the door knob had him snapping his eyes toward it in time to see Hermione, as if conjured by his very thoughts, quickly and carefully letting herself into his room and closing the door behind her.
His face broke into an enormous grin as he shot up in the bed, his heart rate kicking up at the mere sight of her. Sweet Merlin, he had it bad.
"You lost?" He asked gently, the smile on his face making his voice sound bright in the quiet room.
She gently put a finger to her lips to silence him as she walked purposefully to the bed. He swung his legs over the side so he could meet her eyes, a questioning expression on his face as she raised her wand and cast a series of nonverbal spells that filled the atmosphere around them with the familiar, rolling electricity of magic.
The faint click of the lock at the door had him cocking his eyebrow at her as he realized she was locking and silencing the room.
She set the wand on his nightstand when she was finished and gave him a small smile. "Sorry. Fleur doesn't know I'm here, obviously. Didn't want her to hear my voice, the house is so quiet right now."
Her voice was soft, almost husky, and the roaring fire went to full blown inferno.
She'd snuck into his room. Which meant that she had been missing him too - enough to defy authority and seek him out. He chalked it up to the heightened emotions that the end of the war had caused in him, but he felt a small lump in his throat at that.
"S'alright. You know I'm always in favor of some rule breaking." He swallowed thickly, but forced himself to keep looking at her. "S'long as it means I get to be with you."
He knew his face was ablaze and only hoped that it was dark enough in the room to mask it. He didn't really know why he still felt so embarrassed to tell her how he felt. They'd told each other they loved one another, but it still felt so strange.
It would take getting used to, this ability to be open with his heart, but he supposed that was normal when you fell in love with your childhood best friend. It wasn't an easy transition to go from bickering about cats and rats to kisses and declarations of love.
Her soft smile widened, making her eyes impossibly more sparkly than they had been when she'd walked in. Closing the short distance between them so she stood between his bent knees, she reached out to frame his face with her hands and bent her neck slightly, lowering her mouth to his. He met her half way and suppressed the urge to moan in relief.
His very soul had needed this. He knew she was it for him as he became immersed in her scent and her lips danced softly over his own. There was never going to be anyone else.
Reaching up, he ran his hands up and down her back, the softness of her pajama top making him yearn to feel how her skin compared.
Her tongue grazed the seal of his lips lightly and he happily opened his mouth to allow her in, letting the moan he'd suppressed earlier escape him in the process. Kissing her properly felt better than he'd ever thought it could. Everything about her felt so fucking good.
He fisted his hands in her pajama top, pulling her tightly against him as she let her own soft moan escape before running her hands through his hair - her fingernails grazing his scalp so gently that he thought he might go insane from the sensation.
He was so wrapped up in her he didn't realize until he was nearly flat that she'd started pushing him back as she climbed on top of him - her knees resting on either side of his hips and her hands beside his head. He reached up to grasp her waist, desperately wanting her to drop her weight fully on him. He needed to feel her. All of her.
Tearing her mouth away, her eyes pinned his. "Is this okay?" She asked, the husky quality to her voice quavering slightly with both need and, if he wasn't mistaken, uncertainty.
He knew she was terrified that she'd somehow misconstrued this entire thing between them - despite the fact that it had finally been openly declared. He knew it because he was terrified of the exact same thing, that he'd wake up and realize that none of this was real and they were still only friends. His heart melted.
Wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her, he sat up so he could see eye-to-eye with her, which had the accidental effect of forcing her to straddle his lap completely in the process. He had to suppress a groan at the sensation of her pressed up against him like that.
Her thin pajama bottoms were doing exactly fuck all to hide the warmth of her center from him, which he realized a split second too late meant that she could probably feel the depths of his want for her too.
The surprised look in her eyes told him that she could, in fact, most certainly feel it.
His brain went on an immediate field day of self loathing and he found himself focusing very intently on her shoulder all of a sudden to avoid looking directly into her eyes.
Great. Very smooth, you git. She's been in here for exactly five minutes and you're pressing your hard on against her. She's going to run straight back to her own room in horror and you're going to throw yourself straight into those sodding waves outside.
Better to drown out there than here in his own mortification.
His heart pounded at the base of his throat as he chanced a glance at her face again, expecting to see offense or revulsion, but those expressions never materialized. Instead, the surprise he'd seen there before gave way to a smoky, heated gaze and his heart started to pound.
If she looked at him like that for one more second he didn't think he had the strength not to tear her clothes off with his teeth.
Shaking his head suddenly, he fought for control. He couldn't do that, not yet. He couldn't let this go one step further until she understood that his feelings were real - that what was happening between them meant everything to him. There couldn't be any miscommunications. Not anymore.
Taking her face into his hands, he pressed his lips almost heartbreakingly softly against hers and then unwaveringly met her eyes. "You're all I've ever wanted. Do you know that?"
When she merely stared back, almost as if she was searching for some sign of insincerity, he pressed his forehead against hers and sighed. "I've loved you since I was fourteen years old."
Her breath came out slowly against his face and she rubbed her forehead back and forth softly against his as he waited for her to respond.
Her voice was the barest whisper when she finally responded. "I always thought it was just me, you know. I never thought there was a chance you could feel the same way."
The chuckle of relief bubbled up from him before he could stuff it down and he lifted his hands from her face to bury them in her hair. "Me too."
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she was preparing to ask him something important and his pulse kicked up in anticipation.
"Ron, it's alright if you did, but I have to know if you…did you and Lavender -"
"No. No, we didn't."
Her eyes popped open and she pulled her head back to look directly into his eyes. He suddenly knew exactly what any number of her textbooks felt like on a near constant basis.
"You can be honest. We weren't together and she was your girlfriend."
He shook his head slowly, a half smile blooming on his face. "She was, but it just never went there, Hermione. I won't lie to you, we fooled around. But, that's it. I promise."
He thought she'd look relieved, or at least satisfied, with his answer but instead she looked almost more worried as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. It was as if she had an even more important question bouncing around in that mind of hers.
Sure enough, she did.
"Did you tell her you loved her?"
Relief flowed through his veins like warm honey and his smile widened as he shook his head slowly. "I've never said that to anyone before. I've only ever told you." Leaning in, he let his eyes fall closed as he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, his words a whisper against her mouth as he went on. "I've only ever loved you."
With a moan, she took his mouth with hers again and threw her arms around his neck - kissing him with a passion that took his breath away. His hands fisted painlessly in her hair as their tongues dueled and then his mind went almost instantly blank as she rocked her hips against his.
Their confessions had ratcheted up the intensity in the room in an instant and without thinking, he dropped his arms back around her waist and tipped her to the side so he could lay her on the bed - his lips never leaving hers. He could barely think, but he knew they needed to be horizontal as soon as humanly possible.
Her hands were everywhere as he settled over her, running up his back and shoulders, carding through his hair, scratching lightly down his arms as gooseflesh followed in their wake.
He allowed his full weight to drop between the cradle of her legs and there it was again, the heat of her pressed up against his own arousal. The part of his brain that was still entirely stunned that this was actually happening wanted to scream, 'You're actually pressing your bits to Hermione's bits, you lucky wanker!'
But, he kept it in check.
Until a second later when she rocked her hips against his again, this time from her position beneath him, and he nearly went blind with pleasure.
His breath had picked up speed, which she obviously took as a sign that he liked what she was doing and she rocked her hips again while simultaneously reaching for the bottom of his shirt to pull it up.
Breaking away from her mouth, he gazed down into her face and saw nothing but trust and desire in her eyes. She wanted this. Wanted him.
Pushing up onto his hands so he was hovering above her, he reached back as she pulled his shirt up to his shoulder blades and grabbed a handful of it at his neck to pull over his head- tossing it aside.
He watched in the dark as her light brown eyes roamed slowly over his chest, taking her time to look her fill, before she lifted her hands to lay them flat against his chest. His eyes fluttered closed as she moved them down, her palms brushing against his pale nipples, down his leaner than typical stomach and then back up until they reached his shoulders.
"You're magnificent, Ron. I've always particularly loved your shoulders."
He couldn't help the shudder that the combination of her praise and her touch caused, but too soon her hands disappeared from his body and he opened his eyes to find out where they'd gone. Now that he knew how it felt for her to touch him, he didn't want her to ever stop.
They'd gone, as it turned out, to the bottom of her own pajama top and he knew that the minute she took that off he was going to step over the edge of the tiny self restraint ledge he was currently balancing on.
Lifting his hand, he stopped hers and her eyes snapped to his in confusion.
"Love, if you take that off - just full disclosure - I'm not sure I'll be able to stop what we've started."
They stared at each other for a beat, their quickened breaths and the distant waves the only sounds in the nearly silent room.
"Why would you want to stop?" She asked innocently and he closed his eyes tightly for a second before opening them again to stare meaningfully back into hers.
There was no way she'd understood what he'd meant. It was probably going to overwhelm her and scare her right out of here, but he had to be clear. He'd promised himself - no more miscommunications with her.
"I don't want to, that's the issue. I want…" Fuck, why was this so terrifying to say? "Hermione, I want to make love to you so much that it's actually doing my head in. I know that's fast, so just - you know - we might need to slow down. That's all."
There was no way she couldn't feel the heat that had to be emanating from his ears, but he was strangely proud of himself - even if what he'd said had most certainly shocked her enough to put an end to what he wanted with every cell in his body.
He'd done the mature thing instead of just plowing head first. He didn't know if that made him a gentleman or an idiot, but he'd done it for her, so he was at least confident with his reasons.
And then, she smiled up at him with that, "You're so adorable when you're two steps behind," smile that she'd given him so many times over the years and he stared down at her in confusion.
"I did the spell out in the hallway. I wouldn't say four years of lead up is particularly fast, would you?" She said, her hand reaching up to brush his cheek as her eyes went softer than he'd ever seen them. "I've only ever loved you, too."
His lust addled brain struggled for a moment to catch up to what she was saying. When it finally did, his expression must have looked gobsmacked because she giggled, actually fucking giggled, and then pulled her shirt over her head in one swift motion to reveal a sight even his wildest imagination couldn't have done justice to.
His breath stopped and his mind launched into a mental checklist:
1. Hermione Granger was in love with him, Ronald Bilius Weasley
2. She was lying beneath him in a bed at his brother's house, with her hair a riot of wild curls all over his pillow and her lips swollen from his kisses.
3. She wasn't wearing a shirt.
4. Or a bra.
5. She'd done THE spell outside of his room before coming in and silencing it.
6. No one knew she was here, which meant they had the whole night. Alone.
He wanted to tell her he was honored. That he'd never wanted anyone the way he wanted her and that in his wildest dreams, he never thought she'd feel the same. That he would follow her anywhere - after this, there was no way he'd be able to bear being apart from her.
What he managed to force past his lips was a nearly inaudible whisper of, "You're so beautiful."
It wasn't poetry or promises, but she must have been able to sense his sincerity, because her face lit up like Christmas morning. "So are you."
Tentatively, his eyes pinning hers, he lifted his hand and laid his palm against her side. Her skin was soft and warm and he pushed the fact that he could feel her ribs out of his mind. He'd get some real food into all of them once they got back to the burrow.
With an agonizing slowness, he began to run his hand up until his thumb was just below her breast. She was practically squirming below him as her nipples, small and brown and perfect, hardened before his eyes. He brushed his thumb over the straining nub experimentally and she gasped, arching her back as if trying to get closer to him.
Confidence surged through him that he could make her feel good and he became instantly addicted to the idea of pleasing her.
"D'you like that?"
She nodded emphatically, her head tilted back far enough in her pleasure to give him perfect access to the hollow of her throat and the throbbing pulse point he could see there.
Leaning down, he pressed open mouth kisses to the sensitive skin as he took another swipe over her nipple with his thumb. Her reaction was making his own arousal almost painful.
She was practically writhing, her breathing turned to whimpers as he slid his hand over to fully cup her breast while he kissed his way from the base of her neck up to her chin.
Dropping her head forward again once he arrived there, she found his mouth - their tongues finding a rhythm so quickly it was as if they'd been kissing for years as he reveled in the sensation of how perfectly her breast fit into his hand.
Her hips were rolling relentlessly against his now and he found himself starting to tremble with need, making it a struggle to support his weight above her for much longer. Dragging his hand away from her breast, he lowered himself down to his elbows until his chest was flush with hers and they both gasped.
He had been in no way prepared for how good that felt. It was as if every nerve in his chest was hyper aware of how soft and how warm she was pressed against him. He could feel her nipples grazing against his light, downy chest hair and he wondered how he was going to withstand the actual main event if the feeling of her breasts against his bare chest was practically pushing him over the edge.
Running her hands up and down his back, she broke away from his lips to kiss along his jaw until she reached his ear. She took the sensitive lobe in her teeth, making him moan so primally that he even surprised himself.
"What was that you were saying about wanting to make love to me?" She breathed into his ear, her voice flirty and low and causing his breath to hitch and nearly stop altogether.
The part of his brain that governed reason and logic and rational thought threw its hands into the air and wandered away, as the primal part roared into the lead.
His eyes bore into hers, causing her own to widen as she took in his expression. He knew he must look nearly feral if his face was showing even a fraction of how he felt.
"Said I wanted to." He practically growled and was rewarded with her leaning up to kiss and nip at his exposed neck for a moment.
This time it was her turn to growl. "What are you waiting for then?"
His self control snapped and he sat back on his knees, dragging his hands from where they were at her shoulders, down her chest and over her belly in the process. She tipped her head back at the feel of his large hands, so strong and yet so gentle, on her skin and knew that she'd never grow tired of feeling them.
When he reached her pajama bottoms he wasted no time hooking his fingers beneath the waistband and tugging them lower, encouraged when she lifted her arse to aid him. As he got them to the point where her legs parted to surround him, he grasped her legs beneath her thighs and lifted until they were straight in the air so he could rid her of her bottoms entirely.
The sight of her long, strong legs in the air directly in front of him as she lay in nothing but a pair of tiny green knickers was one he wasn't going to forget any time soon. He also knew that, while he wanted to take his sweet time, he also thought he might explode at any moment and those knickers needed to go too. Now.
She was already a step ahead of him as he realized that she'd begun pulling them down and had them past her bum, so all he needed to do was pull them up her legs too so he could toss them on the floor with the ever growing pile of their clothes.
He let her legs drop back to where they'd been on either side of him as he knelt in front of her and found that he couldn't have torn his eyes away had the house been on fire.
She was the most perfect thing he'd ever seen in his entire life. In seven years of friendship, which included summers with her staying at his house and almost a year in a tent, the only glimpses he could put together in his head were half of a breast he'd caught when she'd taken off a jumper too quickly and the shirt beneath it had come up a bit too high in the process and one cheek of her bum when a bathing suit hadn't wanted to stay where it was supposed to.
He'd been able to piece together some pretty spectacular fantasies on how she'd look in this very scenario based on those tiny snippets, but the real thing was proof positive that his imagination was complete shit.
"So beautiful." He repeated reverently, enjoying the flush that he could now see went down her neck and across her chest. Reaching out, he ran his hands slowly up her bare thighs and met her eyes, just as they were about to reach the place her knickers had just abandoned.
She nodded slightly, her eyes at half mast and her breathing shallow in anticipation of him touching her where only she had before.
He completed the distance with his right hand, his fingers stroking through the patch of curly hair above her center as his left continued on to find her breast again. He cupped it gently just as he drew the fingers of his other hand down from her pubic hair to run them over the warm flesh he'd only ever seen in one of his brother's magazines.
She sucked air violently through clenched teeth and arched her back again - a sign he was starting to recognize as one of pleasure for her and his mind surged with victory.
He watched her face, flushed and drawn into a tight expression of concentration as he stroked his fingers up and down between her legs, noting where her breath hitched or her jaw clenched until he realized that her reactions were strongest at the little, fleshy area at the very top.
He concentrated there for a moment, his fingers slow and clumsy, and watched as she began to squirm. It looked like it felt good but she also seemed a little frustrated and he wracked his brain for anything he'd ever read or heard the other guys bragging about when it came to making a girl cum.
Drawing a total blank, he settled on trying to do what he knew felt good for him and he lifted his fingers to his mouth to wet them - knowing that a dry wank was never the most pleasant thing in the world.
"Ron!" His name seemed to tear from her lips and she practically came up off the bed when his wet fingers found her sensitive flesh again.
His breath started coming out in soft pants. This was the hottest fucking thing he'd ever seen and he found his fingers going faster as he watched her breathing speed up, her beautiful, full breasts practically heaving with the effort.
He had to get her there. It suddenly felt like his life depended on it. Lifting his hand again, he wet his thumb and dropped it immediately back to his goal. He knew he'd be able to have more control over the pressure he was applying with his thumb and his eyes widened as she reached up and took her other breast in her hand, pinching her own nipple.
He was so hard it was almost painful and he was suddenly afraid that she wasn't even going to need to touch him if this went on much longer.
Then, without warning, her thighs stiffened around him and her voice took on a high, desperate edge.
"Ron! Don't stop! Ron! Please!"
Stop? Who the fuck would suddenly stop now? She was flushed from head to toe, her nipple hard as a tiny pebble against his kneading palm and he found that his thumb was moving slickly and easily over her as her entire body tensed and then she started to shake from head to toe, her breath coming out on a soft cry that made his stomach clench.
Dropping bonelessly back against the mattress, she let her legs relax on either side of him and he stared at her, his breath heaving. "Holy shit."
She giggled contentedly, her eyes fluttering back open to gaze up at him with so much love and trust that he felt like every broken thing inside of him, every insecure thought or self hating emotion was wiped clean.
"I'd say that's accurate." Opening her arms, she smiled lazily. "Come here."
He didn't need to be asked twice. Dropping gently down again, he pressed himself against her, kissing her deeply and reveling at the fact that he would probably never get tired of feeling her naked and willing under him.
"You're wearing too many clothes." She whispered against his lips and he felt his heart slam against his ribs as her hands drifted from his lower back down to the waistband of his pajama bottoms.
He almost laughed when he felt her hook her thumbs simultaneously below both the waistband of his pajama bottoms and his pants. She wasn't wasting any time getting him naked. He loved the idea of that intensely.
Drawing his hips back a bit, he let her pull them down until he could feel cool air on his bum. Raising himself up onto his hands and knees again, he allowed her to push them down as far as she could reach before he lifted one hand to help her, getting them down far enough to kick off.
Her audible gasp reached his ears the minute his cock sprang free of its constraints, and he avoided her gaze for a minute, not knowing if it was a good gasp or a bad one.
He'd lived in a house almost entirely of boys his entire life and shared a boys dorm at school. He'd, despite his efforts to avoid it, seen his fair amount of equipment and he knew that what he was packing was a bit over the average. He was a big bloke, after all. He figured the plumbing usually followed the size of the house.
However, he knew that Hermione wasn't the most experienced female in the world. What if he didn't, erm, live up to expectations? What if she was disappointed? Or revolted?
Chancing a glance at her face, he saw that she was riveted to his cock and he looked down to see that, in this light, it did look pretty impressive. It probably didn't hurt that he was sure he'd never been harder in his entire life.
He gazed down at her as she lifted her hand and tentatively wrapped it around him. Fireworks exploded behind his eyes as a whimper tore from his throat and he felt a familiar tightening low in his belly, warning him that he should probably stop her if he wanted things to last much longer.
When she pumped her hand slowly once, he snapped his hand up to stop it.
"Wait." He gasped through clenched teeth and she snatched her hand away as if it had been burned.
"Did I hurt you?"
His eyes flew to hers and he shook his head gruffly. "No. No, the opposite. I won't, I mean, this isn't going to last very - you're just so beautiful, and I-"
She giggled softly at his incoherence and propped herself on her elbows so she could kiss him on the tip of his long, freckled nose.
"We have all night, Ronald." She whispered, staring happily into his pleading eyes. "Everything I've ever read has assured me that the first time won't be the, well, lengthiest experience. We have a lifetime to perfect it."
He knew the lopsided grin that lit his face at that was sappy and goofy and love struck. He absolutely knew it. He also didn't give a single damn about it. She'd read about it. And she wanted to shag him for a lifetime. How the hell did he get so lucky?
She lowered herself back down again and he did the same, curling one arm under her shoulders to hold her closer as he dropped his other between them to take himself into his hand.
Her warm folds grazed him, still incredibly wet from earlier, as he guided himself to her entrance and fought to keep his composure. This was it. He was about to know how it felt to be inside Hermione Granger. The love of his whole life.
"Tell me if I'm hurting you, please?" He implored her as he felt himself reach his goal, the very tip of his cock sinking a millimeter into the warmest, wettest place he'd ever imagined.
She nodded emphatically and clutched his shoulders, her legs coming up to wrap around his waist, causing him to sink further. He bit back a whimper as he felt his head immerse itself completely and the tightness in his belly started again.
He was going to be lucky if he lasted five good thrusts.
Pulling her as close against him as he could, he let go of his shaft and brought his other hand up to bury itself back into the hair that he loved so much as he pressed his forehead to hers.
He sank another inch, her walls squeezing around him from every direction.
"I love you." He whispered, his eyes shut tightly and his jaw clenched against the effort not to press home too quickly and deny her the chance to adjust around him as he went. He knew he needed to go slowly for her, despite the fact that it was nearly costing him his sanity.
"I love you, Ron."
With that, he felt her lift her hips and push gently back until he was completely inside of her.
They lay still for a second, immersed in the shock of the moment. They were actually doing this. Finally.
Gently, carefully, he pulled back and then thrust slowly forward again - a quiet moan of ecstasy leaving his lips at the sensation. He'd never felt anything that could even come close to this. No amount of dirty magazines, off color stories from his friends or mortifying pep talks from a brother here or there could prepare him for the utter bliss this was.
It was a total body and soul experience and it was all consuming. Pressing his lips against her temple, he thrust again and trembled against her as he felt her meet his movement with a tentative one of her own. It wasn't merely that it felt incredible, because it did. It was also that he loved her so fucking much. And she loved him.
He had nothing to compare it to, but as he thrust again and felt himself growing precariously closer to the end, he knew on a fundamental level that this would have never felt this intense, this important, had it been with anyone other than her.
"Hermione, I'm close." He gasped, knowing he had seconds at best before this was about to be all over. She thrust against him, taking him in to the hilt as she reached down to grasp the flesh of his exposed bum in her hands.
"Let go, Ron. I want you to." She whispered against the sensitive shell of his ear and any restraint he had left evaporated. With one final thrust, he felt the unbearable tightness erupt into spasms - his cock throbbing inside of her with such intensity he actually cried out her name.
It wasn't as if he hadn't been crying that out at orgasm in his mind for the last four years, but he'd never actually done it out loud. If felt perfect.
He collapsed on top of her, his head falling to her breasts as he tried to catch his breath. Her hands came up to his hair instantly, her fingers running soothingly through it and he let his eyes flutter closed. He could stay here, safe in her arms and surrounded by her love, forever.
"Did that just happen?" He slurred, a smile blooming on his face as he felt her laugh lazily beneath him.
He picked his head up to look at her, his chin resting lightly on her chest. She was glowing in the moonlight, a thin sheen of sweat making her skin sparkle and the humidity in the room making her hair bushier and wilder than he'd ever seen it. Pre-sex Hermione was gorgeous. Post-sex Hermione was a goddess.
"I don't deserve you."
He'd said it so softly that it had almost been lost in the sound of the far off waves, but the suddenly stern look in her eyes told him she'd heard.
"Ronald Weasley, if I ever hear you say such rubbish again I'll hex you into oblivion."
Her tone was so bossy, so righteously indignant, that he couldn't resist propping himself up on his elbows and kissing the end of her nose, just as she had done earlier.
There wasn't a thing about her that he wasn't going to love for the rest of his life.
