As usual, I do not own these characters or places.

August 22, 1998

Hermione and I had sex again. I don't know what to feel about it- I mean I know I liked it, or loved it really, it felt amazing, she felt amazing. It happened so suddenly again, just like the last time, she kissed me, then we were full-on snogging, and then we were in my room, near my bed and we started to fight. The one time we really needed to stop acting like the two of us and we just couldn't.

She asked me leave it be, so I did, I mean I really wasn't in a position to fight. I felt like such a tit standing there, raging hard-on straining in my trousers while we yelled at each other. The brain part of me wanted to hash this out, win this out, like I always want to, but the part of me in increasing pain wanted to just shut up. That part won.

Fred- I almost said it, I almost told her "I love you" and she didn't want it. Didn't you tell me that solved all the problems? That girls ate that shit up? But Hermione's not just any girl, and I'm not just saying it.

So we snogged again, rough kisses, like the fight didn't end, just translated into a new medium. We fell on the bed, clothes flying, shoes whipping across the room, body parts tangled in each other. It was all sort of frantic. And when we got down to it, I couldn't help but just slam into her. There was a part of me, one that was fading with each thrust, that was telling me to slow down and try to hold off a little, but I shushed that pretty quickly. I think she enjoyed it, it was kind of hard to tell, she never looked at me, barely gave me any indication. But she moved against me, underneath me- shit that'll never get old, Hermione was underneath me. And not by accident, not because I tripped over my shoes and fell on her, because she choose to be there, because she wanted to be there. And once it was over, once she frantically twisted and moaned in loud, uncontrollable bursts and I, well, probably embarrassingly finished, she left. I didn't try to ask her to stay, I didn't want to fight, not after that.-

The Burrow was just the way it should be to Hermione. A jumbled mess of wood piled on top of itself in a way that was so beautiful to her. This was a place of childhood happiness and sanctuary. She was safest here, always.

It was early when they apparated to just outside the hill overlooking the Burrow. The sun was just creeping over the horizon wondering why they were arriving so early. Harry wondered the same thing. What the hell had gone on the night before? Surely he could infer what had happened, he heard the familiar angry murmurs of a fight seeping through the floor boards and then sudden silence. His ears strained to hear noise, though he tried to will himself to stop, not wanting to hear indications of what he figured starting going on. And with the first moan he silenced his room, nope, nope, that was enough he didn't want the play-by-play.

He expected them to roll out of bed, hand-in-hand around noon, lovingly gazing at each other over breakfast. So imagine his surprise when he was shaken awake at 5 by Hermione, fully dressed, wondering if he could wake Ron.

"Ron?" He asked "Didn't you just come from his room?" he wouldn't have normally been so bold about letting on that he knew that she had been in his room, but it was early and he didn't feel like filtering.

"No. Please wake him. I would like to go early."

You know, whatever is going on between them can wait until a decent hour Harry thought.

Mrs. Weasly stood in an orange housecoat patiently waiting while her batter solidified into pancakes as the trio entered. "Oh!" she exclaimed "How lovely! I didn't know you'd be here so soon, but, oh no dear, I'm quite happy about it!" Hermione shook her head in worry, had she really not considered that a woman may not want three people barging into her home hours before they were expected? She was really losing it.

Ron turned to Hermione, "We, uh, yeah, didn't figure we'd be here this early either. But someone felt it quite necessary to be here before the sun" She rolled her eyes, what the hell was he doing? Calm it down, Weasly he lectured internally.

Mrs. Weasly chuckled and moved them to the kitchen table excusing herself to get dressed and wake Arthur. Harry snuck away almost immediately to wake up Ginny, in a way, Ron hoped, to be as chaste as possible.

There they were again, sitting side-by-side so close they were only breaths away from touching, all alone in a pressurized room full of questions.

"Why did you leave?" he asked, eyes turned downward studying a knot in the wood.

"I just…" she started, not sure what she was going to say, why did she leave? Harry had to know what was going on, there was no doubt, otherwise he wouldn't have said what he did this morning. So it couldn't be to keep up appearances. It wasn't because she didn't enjoy it, because she did.

"I don't want what sleeping with you could mean" she answered, not really sure what it would mean to share a bed together.

"Well it's a bit late for that don't you think?" she clenched her jaw and turned away, "Come on, Hermione. Stop this. It's nonsense. Why can't we just be happy together?" He reached over, his large hand cradling her face. She leaned into him, the weight of her head pressing gently against his large hand.

"Right now" she answered, her eyes searching his "I'm not sure it's possible. If we try this now, it may destroy our chances to be happy together." Ron watched her, watched her lips part and her brow furrow in despair, she was waiting. His other hand slid up her neck cupping her face and with one last glance he kissed her fully on the mouth. There was nothing frenzied about the kiss, it was, perhaps the first time they truly kissed, the first time, he realized, her could feel every crevice, feel the soft plush and indentation of her warm, slightly wet, perfect lips. It was a pure, deep, full joy he felt from this kiss, this was a different kiss. Their lips moved together, dancing so intimately in a perfect tango. She welcomed his tongue, like an old friend she cherished, meeting with her own. They were so entranced with each other, with this wonderful kiss that they hardly registered the whispered "Oh. My. God." that sounded from the kitchen entrance. They parted slowly staring at one another before the bubble they enclosed themselves in popped violently at a louder "Oh. My. God."

Ginny stood, eyes widening to a point that seemed almost inhuman. A flaming red Ron, pushed back his chair, almost knocking it completely over. "Ginny, don't say anything to Mum!"

"Why not?" she asked her mouth stretching into a knowing, giddy smile. She tried to lock eyes with Hermione to transmit a telepathic giggle, but could never fully get her friend's attention. "She'll die of complete happiness; this may be just what she needs!" She turned to retrieve her mother, presumably to tell a gushing story, but felt Harry's hands wrap around her arms.

"Ginny," he began tilting his head to be level with hers, speaking in a low rumble, "Let them tell if they want, I think they may be trying to figure things out, let's let them decide if and when they want to tell everyone."

"What? Harry, that's ridiculous! Hermione, Ron" she turned again to them. Ron was standing, leaning against the counter, staring at Hermione worryingly. "Ginny," be began without even the slightest shift of gaze, "just keep everyone out of this and let this go" Hermione looked up, finally making contact with her friend's eyes pleading for this secret to be kept.

"OK. Alright. I don't understand, everyone's been waiting for this for years, but if you want to keep this between us, then we will."

When Ron's parents entered everyone was sitting at the table visiting in a way that would not indicate the odd exchange that had just occurred. The day at the Burrow was pleasant, full of laughter and jabs, like the days before the war, before the death. George, Percy, Bill and Fleur all came later for a nighttime meal. The house was boisterous and fun, the way the Burrow was meant to be, and Hermione was so pleased, thrilled to feel almost whole again.

That night, Ron laid in his childhood bed alone in the dark. Harry and Ginny had snuck off at some point to do things Ron would rather not consider. Distorted moon beams streamed through his drapes onto the floor, as if to give him company in his bliss. A small rap, rap came from his door, so quiet that was he questioning its existence when the door opened. Hermione shuffled in and without any question or permission, lay next to him, her head resting on his chest.

"I'm so happy, Ron. I didn't think I would be again, not after…" she didn't have to finish, of course he knew, he thought the same thing. He nodded in agreement, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "If it could only always be this way" she wished, looking up at him. The moon cast dark shadows on his face; he looked like a proper man here.

"Maybe it will be, one day" he answered, kissing her nose and cheeks. She giggled quietly, feeling a giddiness of youth and young love. She elevated her chin so their lips met. This kiss so closely resembled their earlier kiss this morning. Sweet and passionate, almost so overwhelmingly loving that Hermione could feel a well of tears bundle in her chest. She could cry later, she probably would, now was not the time.

She deepened this kiss, licking his lips and tongue and mouth. Her hands massaged the back of his head, her fingers twisting his hair as his own hands explored her body. He ran his fingers along her back to the curve of her spine, over her hip and thigh and back up over her stomach, and finally, to cup her breast. He ran a thumb over her nipple as she whimpered into his mouth, prompting her own hands to caress his back, then stomach, then, boldly, for the first time, she rubbed the growing hardness between his legs with a flat palm. Ron was so surprised from such an unexpected touch, that he broke the kiss.

"Is this OK?" she asked never stopping.

"Are you bloody kidding? It's better than 'OK'" he answered, reigniting the kiss. His hand massaged her breast again knowingly, his hips pushed against her hand. And then, yet another surprise, she pushed down his pajama bottoms, exposing him to her, wrapping her hand around him.

"Oh, shit." He moaned "Wait!" he said, Hermione stopped mid-stroke, hand still wrapped around him, "Let's lock the door." He stood up, stepping out of the bottoms and pulling off his shirt and locked the door, why he decided to do so manually never crossed his mind, maybe because he knew trying to do even the simplest spell at a time like this would be rubbish. When he turned back towards the bed, he gasped at the sight before him. Beautiful, sexy Hermione, sprawled across his bed, completely naked.

"Well?" she asked watching him watch her, "are you going to come over here or should I go get you?"

He tried to move, he did, he certainly wanted to, but his feet stayed put. Hermione stood up from the bed, her form even more enticing moving towards him. She pushed her hands up his arms, up his neck and to his face. "Ron," she began, kissing him sweetly, "what are you waiting for?" Those must have been the magic words because he had immense power to not only move but to lift her up wrapping her legs around his waist. As he approached the bed and laid her down, he thought, for only a brief moment, that in some world he could do this every night.

The two other times they had come together like this, they were rough and rushed. It was different here, everything was different here. It was loving here, it was beautiful here. They moved together in such as way that it was impossible to decipher anything outside of themselves. Each movement was so powerfully erotic that both experienced a simultaneous want for release and prolonging.

When it was over, when both had experienced waves of euphoria unrealized to them before, they laid in the aftermath of ecstasy.

"Ron," she whispered, "I love you"