Author's Notes: Please be advised, this chapter contains ADULT CONTENT for pretty much the entire thing. However, this is an important plot point at the end. If you do not wish to read the graphic scenes, simply scroll down to the line that says "Mmm…I'm a little hungry, but I have no desire to move. " Just read from there to the end.

Ugh. I'll be honest with you, the reason that it has taken me so long to update is because I freakin' HATED writing this chapter. I understand that the scenes could be more descriptive, but I just couldn't write anything that didn't sound totally ridiculous.

Please let me know what you think. Love it, hate it, think I should throw my computer out the window? Let me know. I LOVE reviews. Even bad ones.

The updates should happen more frequently now that this hurdle is passed and "Beautiful Disaster" is almost done. We're almost there, guys, thanks for sticking around.

I hope everyone had a happy and safe Halloween. Any interesting costumes out there?

Enjoy!

He couldn't breathe. But that was because Hermione's arms were wrapped around him like a vice and she was a dead weight on his chest. He groggily opened his eyes. The screen on the telly was blue.

They had fallen asleep again. He was starting to wonder if the two of them would ever make it through an entire movie. It was just that…well…they would snuggle up on the couch and he would get comfortable and the next thing he knew, the movie was over and it was a bizarre hour. It wasn't their fault that their respective schedules had them so busy and exhausted. This was an N.E.W.T. year after all.

Ugh. Now he even sounded like her.

Ron looked at his watch. 1 a.m. Brilliant. And he didn't have the Marauder's Map. Harry had claimed it that evening to go dallying with Luna. Swell. How the heck was he going to get back to Griffyndor tower now?

"Hermione, luv, I gotta get up," Ron tried to sit up. The motion only made Hermione tighten her arms. Normally he got a thrill from this, but he really needed to escape. "Mione, come on, it's late. I gotta go." She started to blink her eyes.

"Mmm…" she rubbed her face against his chest, "what time is it?"

"1 in the morning."

"Oh," she sounded unconcerned. Well, of course she wasn't concerned. She was where she was supposed to be, in her room.

"I've got to get back."

"Do you have the map?"

"Ugh. No."

"Do you have the invisibility cloak?"

"No," Ron sighed, "You'd think my best mate would be generous enough to share the cloak if he took the map."

"He probably forgot about it." This much was true. He and Harry didn't really have in-depth conversations when they were rushing off to meet their girls.

"Well, looks like I will just have to have faith and trust in luck." Yeah, because that worked out so well in the past. He got up to leave.

"Wait," Hermione said, grasping his hand from where she still sat on the couch.

"What?" he replied, slightly irritated. What was the holdup?

"You could…I mean…" Hermione took a deep breath, "why don't you stay here?" She blinked a few times and looked up at him.

"I don't really fit too well on the couch," he said, ignoring the needles in his gut telling him that she hadn't meant for him to sleep in the couch.

"I didn't mean for you to sleep on the couch." She held his eyes but didn't say anything else.

"I think you had better tell me exactly what you meant so that we don't have any misunderstandings."

"I meant for you to stay in my room… with me," she added, finally looking away.

"Stay in your room," he repeated robotically. He had been in Hermione's room before. He had been on Hermione's bed before. Hell, he and Hermione had been on her bed before, in varying states of undress.

One afternoon during winter break immediately sprang to mind. His heart sped up.

Mentally stamping the images down, he continued to look at her. Now, hold on here. She had just invited him to stay. She hadn't said anything else. Just said "stay with me in my room," where she would also be…in her pajamas…all warm and…

Okay, that wasn't working.

Right, just stay.

"I don't have any pajamas" was his lame response. He wanted to kick himself.

"Just transfigure your clothes." Duh, he was supposed to be a wizard, right?

"Right," he replied, although to her or himself, he wasn't sure.

"You don't have to," she started backpedaling, "I mean, I understand that you would want to sleep in your own bed and all…"

"Hermione, that is not it," he interrupted, but didn't give anymore of a reason.

"Well, are you going to stay or not?" she snapped, embarrassment making her cross.

"I'll stay."

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

What in the hell had she been thinking?!?!?! Hermione spent an exponentially longer amount of time in the bathroom getting ready for bed than usual. She pushed escaping locks of hair behind her ears again.

Inviting Ron to spend the night in her bedroom. She was so nervous her hands shook. It wasn't as though he hadn't ever been in her bedroom before. He had been on Hermione's bed before. Hell, they had both been on her bed before, in varying states of undress.

And it was just an invitation to stay.

That was what she had said.

"Stay."

He didn't know that she meant it as more.

He didn't know that she found herself craving him at the most inopportune times. During classes, while sitting together in the Great Hall at meals, when she watched him at his Quidditch games, when they argued.

She loved Ron. She was proud of him. He made her laugh. He was loyal, and affectionate, and sweet. He was the only boy she had ever felt this way about.

It took her by surprise how much she desired him as well.

He awoke things in her: dark things, earthy things. But things that made her feel beautiful, and feminine, and powerful. Little things could set it off. The brush of his fingers, the feel of his lips on her, when he would look at her a certain way.

Wouldn't everyone who thought her prudish be surprised?

She smiled smugly to herself. While she didn't necessarily want to make a grand public display of it, like some people, (this means you, Lavender), when she and Ron were alone sometimes it took all her willpower to keep her hands to herself. Not that Ron seemed to mind. Sometimes it seemed as though they were stuck in some sort of amorous feedback-amplification loop.

The physical aspect of their relationship had progressed quite quickly. Sometimes its speed even shocked Hermione. Not that she would take it back. Or stop. Or even slow down, for Merlin's sake.

And now she thought she was ready to take things a step further.

She walked from the bathroom to the bedroom, willing herself to stop trembling. It was just Ron.

"Hi," she said quietly, smiling softly at him as she closed the door behind her. He turned to face her from where he stood at the side of her bed, clothes already transfigured.

"Hi," he replied, eyes growing wide as he looked at her. She wasn't even wearing anything provocative. She had on the Chudley Cannons shirt he had lent her the day he taught her to swim. Below it she had matching plaid pajama pants. When had she gotten those?

The sight of her wearing his shirt did something strange to him. In part it was a wave of possessiveness, as though her being in his shirt meant that he had claimed her in some way. The other part was biological. That shirt came into intimately close contact with miles of her skin. Contact that he only got in brief catches.

Was it possible to be jealous of a shirt?

"So, goodnight then," he said, leaving it open in the hopes that she would give him some direction. What had he been thinking when he agreed to this? There was no way this would end except in embarrassment.

Hermione walked forward to meet him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged her body to his.

"Goodnight," she whispered, looking up into his face. Her eyes, they were doing something to him. They made the rest of the world fall away. He leaned down to give her what was supposed to be a gentle kiss.

It even started out that way, nice and sweet.

But it didn't stay there for long.

The heat was there, as always, simmering just below the surface. But for some reason, tonight it didn't take much for it to ignite into a furious fire. It didn't matter that they didn't really know what they were doing. Their bodies seemed to know, so Hermione and Ron just let go of logic and followed instinct.

It was awkward, but that didn't seem to matter. There hands seemed to be everywhere at once. A part of Hermione wanted to slow down a tad. She felt like she was missing everything. Ron had just gotten his shirt off. How often did she get to see and touch and taste him completely bare-chested? But no sooner had the shirt landed on the floor but her hands were reaching for the waistband of his pants.

She had somehow wound up on the bed. Foggily, she recalled Ron lifting her up and placing her there. Her clothes were still on, with Ron's hands inside them. That was frustrating, but he had whimpered a bit in such an amazing way when he realized that she hadn't a bra or any knickers on that she let it go for now.

She was possessed; she had to be. How else could she explain the fact that she was laying back on the bed and pulling Ron on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing their bodies into deliciously close contact. Without realizing what she was doing, she grinded against him.

Oh, that felt good.

She needed her bloody clothes off NOW, dammit!

As though sensing what she wanted, Ron reached for her pajama pants and pulled them off.

Shirt staying on. Okay, then.

He separated from her briefly to look into her face. He was asking her permission without words. She arched her back to reach his face with her lips, and kissing him, wrapped her legs back around his waist. Bodies knowing what to do, she felt him ease into a place inside her where nothing had been before.

Ok, that didn't feel as good.

It was rather like a burning sensation. Hermione felt like she was being filled to suffocation with something she couldn't really describe. Dammit. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to hurt.

Ron stopped moving when he saw the look on her face.

"What's the matter?" he asked in a strangled voice, too much riding on her answer.

"It hurts." Shite.

"Oh…do you want me to stop?"

"No." Oh, thank God. Holding his body weight off her with his arms, he leaned down to lightly kiss her cheek.

"Tell me what to do."

"I just need a second." Her hands moved to caress his shoulders and pull his weight back on top of her. After a few moments, each of which Ron was certain would be his last, Hermione began moving her hips against him. He gritted his teeth.

"Honey, if you're going to be doing that, I can't just lay here." Her hands moved from his shoulders to his face, turning it to look at her.

"Then don't."

Not being able to help himself, Ron began to move, sliding in and out, reveling in the feeling of Hermione's body squeezing him.

It was intoxicating, it was maddening, it was…rapidly getting out of control.

Oh no!

Three more mindless thrusts had Ron exploding into his girlfriend's body. After he came back to reality, he hugged Hermione to him. He rolled onto his side, taking her with him, and kissed her cheek again.

"I'm so sorry," he was so overloaded, he was worried he would start to cry.

"What are you sorry about?" Hermione whispered, snuggling into Ron's chest.

"That that was so bleeding awful."

"What are you talking about?" she asked tiredly, already drifting off.

"I hurt you, and it was over before you had a…"

"…a special moment?" she supplied, using their codeword.

"Yeah."

"Don't worry about it. Everything was brilliant up until the very end. Next time will be much better."

Next time! Merlin, he loved this woman.

"I love you, Mione." He rolled again, onto his back. She quickly followed and placed her head on his chest.

"I love you too, Ron."

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

How could she be so sore?

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, only to realize that her room was on its side. Oh, wait no…she was just sleeping in a different position and the side of her face was all sweaty. Suddenly, the floor dropped out.

Wait a minute.

That was just her head moving up and down because Ron had taken a deep breath. She was sleeping with Ron! She snuggled him a little closer. She was sleeping with the love of her life! She was…shagging…the love of her life.

Oh, Merlin.

She and Ron had made love last night. And it had been…well…brilliant up until the actual shagging ensued. Dammit. She refused to accept that. Everyone made such a big bloody deal about the whole thing. She was 18 years old. She should be able to enjoy a physical relationship with her boyfriend. She loved him, after all.

Mentally, Hermione paged through the tome of information she had acquired about sex since she and Ron had started going out. Granted, a vast majority of it was from books, but when had books ever steered her wrong before?

There was that one trick she picked up that had Ron practically screaming when she tried it out on him…

…But back to the point. She remembered reading that changing positions would change the sensations.

Hmm…

Last night she had reveled in feeling Ron's weight bearing down on her. But it was very difficult to hit the right spot that way. What if she was on top instead?

The idea had merit. But how to go about it? She couldn't just come out and say something like that, could she?

Ron was so conservative. Would he get turned off if she were so forward? Sighing, she stretched and looked down. There was an odd bump in the blankets where Ron's legs met.

Oh.

Apparently, Ron was having some very pleasant dreams. Hermione smiled slyly. What if…what if she just went and did this on her own while he was asleep?

Would that count?

Would he be upset?

Would she be taking advantage of him?

Hermione tried to think the situation through logically. Would Ron really be upset to wake up to find his girlfriend writhing atop him? Well, he might be a bit miffed at being woken so early, but somehow Hermione thought that the whole "being shagged" part would take some of his irritation away. She just hoped he would stay asleep until she was comfortable enough for him to wake up. She slid her hand under the blankets to conduct a little test.

"Mmm…" Ron groaned in his sleep, "…Mione…there…" Good. This was good. Perhaps he would sleep through the whole thing and think it nothing more than a dream. Hermione touched him a bit more to make sure he was ready. The quiet moaning continued.

Slowly, she pushed herself up off the bed and slid one leg over Ron's so that she was straddling him. Very gently, she eased him inside her body.

Ugh. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

She was still sore and it still hurt a bit. But when she got him all the way there, she had second thoughts. As she shifted her weight, the friction between their bodies was absolutely delightful. Hermione tried it again.

Yup, this could work.

Continuing along slowly, Hermione ground her hips back and forth against Ron's body. This was feeling better and better.

Strong hands suddenly gripped her hips and stopped the motion.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he asked, looking up at her, very awake.

"Erm…" Hermione was nervous now, "taking advantage of you?"

Ron laughed and pulled her forward to kiss her, but didn't allow her to get up. He let her set the pace and moved with her. She quickened the rhythm and before too long felt tension growing in her belly. She grabbed the sheets and rubbed against him harder, faster, until she felt her muscles contract and release. Completely spent, Hermione laid her head back down on Ron's chest and tried to even out her breathing.

Any pride Ron might have felt about his performance this time was far from his mind at the moment. Hermione's orgasm spurred him on as he grabbed her bum roughly and plowed into her. A few seconds later stars exploded behind his eyes, and Ron lay back, cuddling Hermione to him, unwilling to let her go.

"Are you ok?" she asked tiredly.

"Smashing. You?"

"I'm well, thanks. I told you it would get better."

"I know, you're always right," he joked, turning to place a kiss on her sweaty head.

Mmm…I'm a little hungry, but I have no desire to move.

"Oh, you read my mind," Ron sighed, nuzzling Hermione's neck.

"What?" Hermione pushed herself off Ron's chest to look him in the face.

"What?"

"What did you just say?"

"That you read my mind."

"I read your mind about what?" she sounded confused.

"That you were a little hungry, but you didn't want to move." She just stared at him. Then she was sitting up and putting some space between them on the bed.

"Ron, I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did. I heard you."

"Ron, I didn't say that," she pushed some errant hair out of her face, "but I thought it. In those exact same words."

"Ok," he sat up against the headboard and closed his eyes.

Why would he say those exact words?

"Because that's what I heard!" he was starting to get irritated now. All he wanted was to snuggle and hear Hermione tell him that she loved him.

"What did you hear?" she sounded frightened now.

"Those exact words."

"Ron," she whimpered, "I haven't been saying any words, I've only been thinking them." He just looked at her.

"Ok, let's try an experiment." At least she was making sense now. "I'm going to think of something, and you try to figure out what it is."

"Ugh, fine." He didn't like this one bit. Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Ron did the same.

He started to zone out, just breathing; inhale, exhale. An image appeared. Hermione tying red sneakers. Her hands were so small. She was probably only about 7 years old.

"What was I thinking about just now?"

"Tying red sneakers where you were little," he replied, hardly recognizing his own voice.

"Oh my God," was all she could say.