I own nothing but my own plot bunnies and dreams. All thanks to JKR for her wonderful characters. I just like giving them a good time.

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He was dreaming. He was unconscious and in St. Mungo's and he must be dreaming. That would explain why he was standing, stark naked, in an unfamiliar bedroom. It was hot, and the window was cracked open, letting in some air and silver moonlight that lit the room with a soft glow. The room was cozy and inviting, and in the center of the room was a large, long four poster bed that he could have fit in comfortably. But he wasn't about to get into the bed. Well, he wanted to. But he didn't want to risk waking up the current occupant and have her find him naked.

Hermione Granger, the star of most of his dreams, lay on the bed, sweetly asleep and looking good enough to eat. She was wearing an oversized Cannons shirt, that looked suspiciously like it might have belonged to him, and as far as he could tell, little else. She tossed in her sleep, a frown marring her lovely features, her brown frizzy curls laid out on the pillows in a great wave. The shirt rode up with her movements, as she turned on to her side, and it revealed the luscious curve of her bum.

Oh Merlin, she was gorgeous. She looked older than usual; confident, sexy. Like she had grown into her body completely and it was completely hers. Her legs were long and lean. He could imagine them wrapped around him. He was uncomfortably aware of his nudity, and how his body's reaction to her state of dress could not be hidden. She was going to kill him when she woke up.

She was whispering, though her eyes were still closed. He walked a bit closer to hear her, wondering what she was dreaming about. "Ron!" She whimpered, and he thought his heart had stopped beating. "Yes! Oh….God…..more…" She writhed on the bed, and the shirt rose up to bunch around her waist as she flipped on to her back. He was gifted with a vision of the light brown curls dusting the junction of her thighs. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard.

It wasn't a dream. It was heaven. He had died, and this was his version of heaven. An eternity with a Hermione who lusted after him and moaned his name in her sleep. He opened his eyes. Or maybe it was hell, and all he could do was watch. Maybe he wouldn't be allowed to touch her, and he'd have to suffer a permanent painful erection. He crept to the side of the bed, and reached out a shaking hand, brushing against the creamy skin of her arm. She felt like warm silk, a fine layer of perspiration from the hot weather and her steamy dream making her skin slightly slick. He was so hard he thought he would explode.

Two months of knowing that she fancied him, knowing that she thought of him like he thought of her, had tortured him with endless possibilities. He had indulged in so many wanks to thoughts of her that he should be sore by now. But he only wanted more, and here was every dream he'd had of her laid out like a feast before him.

He bent over her, unable to resist, and pressed a light kiss to lips that he remembered in great detail. Before he could pull away, he felt a hand behind his neck, and those sensuous lips open under his, beckoning his tongue to come and play. It was very wrong to take advantage while she was dreaming of him, but since this was probably his dream to begin with, he thought he might as well give in and follow his instincts.

He ravaged her mouth and she ravaged back, with lips and tongue and teeth, nibbling and sucking and biting until he thought he would come from kissing alone. His whole body ended up on the bed, covering her small frame with his large one. By the time he opened his eyes while taking a break for much needed air, her eyes had opened and she was gazing at him with every bit of the lust he himself felt.

"Ron…more…" She wrapped her arms around him, and he got over his shock enough to return to kissing her passionately, running his hands over her bum as his lips traversed the delectable length of her neck. His cock was digging into her bare thigh, and he was so close to what lay between those thighs, that he could barely breathe. She smelled so good, like some kind of flower and a little bit of cinnamon, and she was moaning his name….

She went to wrap her legs around him, and he jumped back, eyes wide. She laughed, a throaty, sexy sound that he could barely believe had come from the prim, proper girl he loved. She reached down and pulled off the thin shirt, revealing incredible breasts that he had long suspected lived in hiding under her uniform, or robes, or the baggy jumpers she favored on weekends.

Blinking rapidly, he reached out to caress the pale curves that glowed in the moonlight. She arched up, meeting his hand and filling his palm with the softest, most wonderful flesh he could imagine. He stroked it, utterly captivated, and watched as her nipple tightened in response to his gentle touch.

"Please…stop torturing me!" she chided, and pulled his head down. He took the hint, however surprised he was, and decided that this was absolutely the best bloody dream/afterlife that could possibly exist. He captured the hardened nipple in his mouth, kissing it, licking it, and finally giving in to his urge to suck. He was rewarded for his efforts with a steady stream of panting moans, and her body rubbing against his frantically.

She was so tiny under him, for all of her passionate spunk. He was almost a foot taller than she, and part of him was afraid that he would somehow break her. That is, until she managed to push against him so hard that she managed to flip them over completely. She hovered above him, hands flat on his chest, and she bent forward, kissing him soundly.

"No, more teasing!" She gripped his erection, and he yelped, and before he could figure out how to use his voice to speak, she was sliding down on to him, and his eyes rolled back into his skull. He had to revise his opinion….this, this was officially heaven.

She let out the sexiest little moan, and she surrounded him completely, hot and wet and tight, and then….she started to move. He thought he would explode….and he wasn't supposed to…Bill…and Charlie…they said you had to hold on….to wait for the girl……oh Merlin, what is she doing with her hips?

She was sitting up on top of him, practically dancing, her warm brown eyes hazy with passion as she circled her hips and moved up and down his length. He was going to come….think of chess….Godric, she was sexy when they played and she nibbled her lips…..no, something else…Quidditch…she'd looked so good in that Cannons shirt…wonder how she'd look in the showers….no….he grunted, trying to hold on to some shred of control, gripping her hips to keep her from moving.

She laughed…that low sexy laugh that had driven him crazy earlier. And then she started bouncing faster and faster, and he couldn't hold on, he could feel the pressure building. Her breast were amazing, jiggling in front of his eyes. And he watched as she reached between them and touched herself, and his eyes widened and he exploded, yelling her name.