A/N: My continuing thanks to grownuphermione for the beta on the entire fic! I really appreciated your careful eyes and feedback!

Thank you so much to ronniemione, Trude, mgmve2008, lunanova,and Emma. Jane-HPfan for reviewing! There's only one chapter left- I'd still love to hear what the rest of you are thinking...

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the universe- they belong to the wonderful JKRowling. No infringement intended... I am simply playing with them for a while. :o)

Not a Memory Yet, Chapter 6 (Patience is a Virtue)

I rested my head against the cold tiles of the shower, relishing the slightly warm water rushing against my skin. I needed to cool off. Despite a typical December chill in the air, I was flushed and frustrated and almost painfully aroused. I felt like I was going to burst from impatience and want. Normally I didn't feel as though I would die if I didn't get some sort of release. I enjoyed a good orgasm as much as the next person, at least from what I imagined, but I'd never felt so compelled to satiate the sexual energy running through my veins.

My hands cupped my breasts and tweaked my nipples, rolling them around between my small fingertips. In my mind, they were Ron's fingers pulling and teasing me. But it's not him, I thought somewhat bitterly. I pushed away the unpleasant thoughts, instead focusing on the various things Ron had done to get me so worked up and hungry for him. I closed my eyes and then it was Ron's hand trailing down my stomach, just as it had done when we lay in bed together last night.

I heard my breath hitch when my fingers delved lower and my body remembered how Ron had pressed me into the bed. There'd been too many layers of clothing between us, but his weight had been heavenly. I relived the feeling of him grinding himself into my pelvis as we kissed, the memory now heightened by the feel of my fingers swirling around my aching clit.

Almost there. I was so close; my muscles were lightly shaking with the build-up of pressure.

I could've teased myself, could've drawn it out and enjoyed a merging of memory and fantasy, but the insistence that coursed through my veins begged me to take the shortest path to relief. My fingertips began swirling harder and faster and my hips pressed forward in time with my hand. My body sought the release it hadn't got all week long, my nerves were fairly bristling with the coiled tension throughout my body. In my mind, Ron didn't stop or pull away from me nor did he fall back against the bed panting in frustration. In my mind's eye, he was inside me and over me and surrounding me, unable to tolerate even an inch of distance between us.

With that final image, I felt my abdomen clench and release in waves of pleasure. Ah, there it is- finally! I held my breath for a moment, hardly aware I was doing it until I needed air a few moments later. I sighed heavily and moved under the shower's spray, my shoulders sagging under the stream of water.

Instead of feeling the relief I had expected, my body was still somewhat tense. I groaned in continued frustration, wishing my impatient mind and body would give it a rest for one bloody minute. It's enough to make me go mad, I thought and slammed my hand against the shower wall.

If I had thought things were finally going to be free and clear between Ron and me, that things would finally be easy, I would have been deluding myself. I wasn't a fool; I knew that Ron's road to recovery was going to be filled with ups and downs. I knew I needed to be patient and wait for him to process and work through his insecurities. I knew there were demons he needed to face and some of them had resided in his soul for longer than I had known him.

Yes, I knew all of those things logically and I had plenty of sound reasoning to keep me company. That didn't stop me from wanting to be what he needed to erase the demons from his mind. That didn't stop my heart from feeling like anything I did might never be enough to help him successfully fight through the pain and doubts.

It isn't about me, the part of my mind that wasn't consumed with doubt jumped in, refusing to let my anxieties mar the landscape of beautiful beginnings.

In a short period of time, Ron had really come a long way. He spent a majority of his evenings alone in his room, tirelessly viewing images in the Pensieve. If I hadn't been studying and immersed in revisions, I probably would've spent those evenings pacing back and forth and wondering what was going on. As it was, the only time we'd been consistently spending together were those stolen moments at night when it was just us wrapped up in the bed.

I turned off the shower and began towelling my body dry. I slipped my dressing gown on and wrung the water from my hair. As I wandered into my bedroom, I wondered when exactly I had given up my entire existence to Ron. Except for a few hours during the school days this week, I'd been almost fully unable to keep thoughts of him from flooding my mind. I even thought about him during my exams, I thought ruefully, remembering how hard I'd had to fight with myself to banish thoughts of him for even that short time.

The past several days had been filled with every emotion I could think of and probably some that I couldn't even name. I was mainly feeling frustrated with the entire situation. Actually, I was frustrated about the situation and with Ron, to a certain extent, but I knew he was trying so hard to move forward that it seemed absolutely pointless to focus any of that in his direction.

He still hadn't told me what he was reviewing in the Pensieve, though I already knew, and I found myself really curious as to what images were troubling him the most. I refused to invade his privacy again; I already felt completely guilty that I'd succumbed and let my curiosity get the better of me the first time. I tried to push the guilt away, knowing I couldn't take back what I'd done, but it stayed there, just under the surface. I wanted to ask him about the memories, but he tended to keep all those things to himself. I'd asked him how things were going a few days ago and he'd said "good" and that was all. To be fair though, most of his focus and attention had been on other things when I'd asked. Much more pleasurable things, I thought warmly.

I was amazed at the difference in his level of confidence, especially in terms of him initiating anything with me. The first day he started the process of working through the memories was the worst, because he immediately became grouchy and irritable and tried to distance himself from me. In the past, if he'd been in that kind of mood, I'd steered clear of him, not wanting to provoke an argument or unintentionally make things worse. This time around, I couldn't tolerate the thought of leaving him alone in this for even a moment. He may not have confided his fears in me, but I had seen enough to know the doubts he was confronting. If I'd let him distance himself from me, he might've been vulnerable enough to take that as proof that I didn't want to be with him. There was no way I was going to let him think that, not for one second. Never again.

My heart clenched at the memory of when I'd told him I loved him and that he'd never be alone. I'd told him I didn't want either of us to ever sleep alone again and then I'd climbed between his sheets and tried to show him just how much I loved him. I wanted to give him new memories to hold on to, especially for those moments when he let his fears and his imagination run away with him. I hoped he'd remember the moments we spent connecting, rather than letting the locket's images play on his fears.

That first night that I slept entirely in his bed, we clung to each other. Only minutes after I told him he wasn't alone in this, would never be alone again, he rolled me partly under his body and kissed me as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting go. I pulled him closer to me and thought with some surprise how easy it would be to let myself get lost entirely in him, in his heavenly weight that was holding me down.

The surprised feeling I got about how quickly we were moving was, oddly, what caught me off guard the most. Didn't I always know this would happen? At the very least, on some level, however subconscious it might have been, I'd accepted the natural trajectory of our relationship. The initial progression was awkward and almost painfully slow, though that made sense for us. We needed that time for this connection to organically grow between us. I was okay with that, with knowing that I might be waiting a long time; the only time it'd really bothered me was the sixth year incident, as I'd taken to calling it in my head, when things had gone more than a bit off course.

That incident didn't matter though, because I knew that once Ron and I finally connected, we'd go from standing still to soaring together in a matter of days. So when he released my lips, rolled off of me, and shifted me onto my side to spoon with him, I found myself in the awkward and strange position of being disappointed that Ron didn't try to go any further and that his hands never once wandered out of safe territory. I felt like I was going mad and was clearly headed straight for the loony bin. Ron was being loving and passionate and not pushing me aside, despite the fact that he probably was full of doubts and confusion. He was being nothing short of respectful and I wanted nothing more than for him to forget decorum and ravage me.

Every successive night, I tried to encourage him to take some more liberties. I wasn't looking to be a slag, nor did I want to force either of us into something if we weren't ready for it, but damn! We'd already waited for so long and the unresolved sexual tension was threatening to suck every bit of sanity I had left out of my body. I had a hard time understanding why he wasn't acting like he wanted to tear my clothes off and have his way with me. Wasn't all of this build-up that went nowhere driving him mad, too?

Maybe he just doesn't want me as badly as I want him, I thought. Of course, I knew that wasn't true- I knew that every time the thought popped into my head. The difficult part was forcing myself to remember it wasn't true when my fears and insecurities got a hold of me. Ron and I really were quite the pair, both of us full of doubt and questions. It was no wonder it had taken us this long to get as far as we had together.

One thing had become abundantly clear: I needed more than what we had. I needed him to show me he wanted me. I needed him to lose control with me because he was so blinded by lust and want and love that he simply couldn't help himself for a moment longer. More than that, over the course of the week, I had slowly been overcome by the need to show him undeniable proof that there would never be another man to take his place.

I left my bedroom, intent on finally being direct with Ron. I'd been relying on my actions a bit too much lately and I thought, at this point, Ron really needed my words and actions to be combined into a definitive statement. I'd showed up at the shop and snogged him breathless over the previous weekend, but had I specifically said I wanted him? Not in so many words, but I thought my actions had left no room for doubt. I assumed he could tell how genuinely happy he was making me. I'd slid between his sheets and told him I loved him, but had I ever told him that I wanted him and couldn't wait for him to make love to me? No, but I'd thought my hands roaming down his backside had been enough to show him what I wanted.

He needs proof, I reminded myself. I was sure of it, though he'd never said anything to that effect. He didn't need to say anything for me to sense what was going through his heart. The insecurities, the doubt, and the questions- they all led to the same place. If he never had an answer to those niggling feelings, he would never be secure. I felt his need for proof as surely as I'd felt the same emotion running through my veins. Tonight, as long as he let me, I was going to give him that proof.

I walked into his bedroom, pleased to see him turning down the covers on his bed. His tentative smile melted my heart and all I could think about was how this man had to be mine. I'd never survive if he didn't want the future life I dreamt of having with him. I sat on the bed and pulled him down next to me, entwining our fingers together. I leaned over to kiss him, trying to convey all of the love and tenderness I felt for him.

"Ron?"

"Mmmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Always," he said with an easy smile.

"How can you stand the wait?" I asked him with no inflection or judgement. I didn't want him to think I was angry or frustrated with him.

"The wait? What do you mean, love?" He genuinely looked confused.

"To be together," I replied softly.

"We aren't together?" He furrowed his brow as he asked the question.

"That's not really what I meant, Ron, although I suppose I just assumed we were. I mean, you never asked, but--"

"Be mine," he said loudly and interrupted what was sure to become my awkward waffling and blathering on if he hadn't cut in. He stared hard at me and was taking shallow breaths.

How can he think I'd say no? I was amazed he couldn't see that there had never been any question. The fact that he worried made my heart ache for him, because I realised how far he still needed to come in accepting what a treasure he was to everyone who knew him, especially to me. I knew I already was his, I could never really belong to another person, but his demanding words brought unexpected tears to my eyes.

"Say it again," I said with watery eyes and the largest smile my face could possibly accommodate.

"Be mine. Please." He said it again in a much huskier tone and the corners of his mouth twitched, ready to burst into a full-blown Ron Weasley grin. Before his mouth got the chance, I leaned forward and covered his lips with mine. The tears spilt down my cheeks once I closed my eyes and Ron's lovely fingers reached up to brush them away.

"Yes," I said when I finally pulled back. Then he did break into that trademark grin and my heart swelled with pride and happiness that it was because of me. He pulled me to rest against his chest and my arms automatically went around his waist.

"You were waiting for me to ask? This whole time? Why didn't you just say so?" he laughed. "Women are barmy!" I released one arm to cuff him lightly on the back of his head.

"It isn't barmy!"

"Whatever you say, love."

"It isn't," I insisted. "Besides, as lovely as it was, I really did assume we were already together, so I wasn't pining over it."

"Right. That's why you brought it up," he said teasingly and chuckled again.

"I was referring to something else, Ronald."

"And that would be?"

I leaned away from him so I could look into his eyes. I wanted to drown in them. I decided it would be a lovely way to go. Here goes nothing...

"How can you stand the wait for us to be together?" I bit my lip nervously as I waited and watched for comprehension to dawn on his features. A slight blush started to creep up his neck and into his cheeks when he understood what I meant. He smirked at me and his eyes glinted.

"Why Miss Hermione Granger! Are you propositioning me?"

"Fuck, yes I am," I said loudly, knowing my words would drive him mad and relishing the thought. I wasn't a prude, he'd certainly heard me curse before, but it wasn't as frequent an occurrence for me- at least not aloud- as it was for him.

He stared at me, presumably gobsmacked, for a few moments. His gaze was making me feel as though he'd already undressed me and I felt a flush rising on my skin as well. At least we match now, I thought with some amusement.

"Please say something," I pleaded with him. I knew it was perfectly natural for me to have these desires and urges and to want to act on them. Nonetheless, I still felt like a slag for even suggesting it so soon. Wasn't it supposed to be the boys who couldn't keep their hormones in check while the girls insisted they wanted to wait? Sod that, I thought. It was ridiculous to assume we should act certain ways just because of our genders and I chided myself for falling prey to such lines of thinking.

"I don't want to sound like a ruddy girl- no offence or anything- but I haven't been ready. Not to mention, Hermione, that I assumed you weren't either."

"Clearly that's not the case. I see no need to wait- when you know, you know."

He practically leapt at me then and we fell against the bed, kissing frantically. His hand cupped the back of my head and his fingers brushed against my scalp. I felt tingles rushing down my spine, as though his fingers were touching me all over. His other hand continued to assault my senses by reaching around to grip my arse. Finally, I thought quite happily and with no small amount of relief, until he moved off of me and threw a hand over his eyes.

I nearly screamed in frustration.

"What's wrong?" I asked breathlessly, hardly believing we were at this spot again.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, it's just wrong. I can't help myself when you say things like that, but I can't. It wouldn't be right." He lowered the hand over his eyes, but didn't turn to look at me.

"It's wrong that I want to make love to you? It's wrong that I dream of you being inside me?"

"No, I-" Ron started to say something, but then he groaned loudly and it was the sexiest noise I'd ever heard. "Damn, Hermione, do you have any idea how fucking sexy that is? When you say things like that? Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Perhaps the same thing you're doing to me, I almost said aloud. Instead, I said, "So then why is it wrong?"

"I guess it's not, but I... I feel like I shouldn't, like we shouldn't... not until I've worked through something."

"Something about me?" I asked and he looked evasively around the room. I sighed and decided I needed to come clean about what I'd seen in the Pensieve. I wanted him to know I was fully aware of what he was afraid of- or, at the very least, that I had seen some of his nightmares. I wanted him to know he didn't have to hide from me. "Ron, I want to tell you something, but I'm afraid you might get mad at me. You have every right to be angry, but it was an accident."

He turned onto his side to look at me and rested his head against his propped up arm. He looked somewhat worried and I swallowed nervously.

I didn't really think this through, did I? Certainly, it would have been easier to make something up or refrain from saying anything. I was risking Ron's anger, which would be absolutely deserved and justified, but, more importantly, I was risking damaging his trust in me. It was horrifying to think I might lose him almost as soon as I had him, but I knew confessing what I'd done was the right thing to do.

"You remember last Thursday? What a daft question- of course you remember it. What I meant to say is, um..." I suddenly lost momentum when I looked up from my hands and into his eyes.

"'Mione?"

"Sorry, I got distracted for a second. Right. Um… Oh, when you came in your room and I was sitting on the bed- well- I'm sure you noticed I was acting odd and- oh, it's just too awful to say!" It seemed I'd finally reached the edge of being able to tolerate what I'd done to him, what I'd taken without his permission. The dam broke.

He'll never trust me again! The thought reverberated around in my head and, quite without my realising it, large tears began to roll down my face. I looked over at Ron as he sat up quickly, alarm clear on his face, and I was sure he knew what I was trying to tell him. Except he must not have figured it out yet, because he looked worried about my distress and not the least bit angry with me. His concern for my state made me feel even worse; I didn't deserve it, especially not after what I'd done. His arms enveloped me strongly and I heard him shushing me lightly, telling me not to cry. I realised how crazy I probably looked to him and I tried to calm myself. I wanted to tell him everything, but I was terrified he would hate me. However, I knew it would be worse if it ever slipped out later.

"Ron," I said, my voice slightly muffled by his shoulder, and I felt him start to pull away. "Don't! I'll never be able to say this if I have to look at you." I felt his body settle back against mine; he was more tense than a moment ago. "When I came home on Thursday and went into you room, I looked to see if you were inside the Pensieve. Oh, Ron, I stayed and watched some of the memories. It was so wrong, so wrong." The tears overtook me again and the shame flowed through me as Ron stayed silent.

"You... you saw?" he whispered into my neck and I nodded, unable to find the words to express how sorry I felt. "Fuck! Hermione, I'm so sorry, I-"

"You're sorry?" I practically yelled as I yanked my head away from him. He flinched.

"I tried to keep you away from that. You shouldn't have to be exposed to-"

"Exposed? Ron, you have nothing to be sorry for! Those are your thoughts and fears and I invaded your privacy and I'm so sorry, Ron. I'm so sorry and I had no right to and I did and-"

Ron covered my mouth with his hand and leaned his forehead against mine. Hope flared within my chest.

"You're not mad at me?" he asked after a few moments and I vigorously shook my head no, since his hand still silenced my mouth. "You aren't horrified at my lack of faith in you or my-"

"No," I exclaimed loudly as I wrenched his hand away from my lips. I gripped his fingers tightly within my own. "No, of course I'm not mad at you. That's what the locket did to you. It wasn't your fault it affected you more than Harry and me. It wasn't your fault at all."

"That bloody locket only did some of that. Hermione, I've always been afraid you'd pick him or any other bloke over me. The locket made those feelings worse, but I'm not going to lie to you: they were there before."

My eyes again filled with tears and I reached up to wipe them away with my free hand. My dear, sweet Ron, always so self-sacrificing, was more worried about how I'd react to the images than what I'd done. How does he not know how wonderful he is? I knew he had poor self-confidence and questioned himself, but how could he ever think I would want Harry over him? He wasn't second-best or a runner-up trophy. To me, he was the best. I wanted the best. It hurt my heart to be told how deeply his doubts ran, that the locket had amplified already existing fears within him. I didn't want him to ever question my love for him again. I knew that might take a while and he still had a lot to work through before he'd truly believe it, but I was determined- now more than ever.

"I'm sorry you've ever had to worry or wonder. I will never love another man the way I love you. No one else could ever come close. But, can you ever forgive me?" My eyes pleaded with him as I asked for his forgiveness. "Can you ever trust me again?" His fingers squeezed mine roughly.

He let out a sort of rumbling laugh which seemed very out of place. "You daft woman- I told you I thought you would want Harry and you said it's me forever. I'd have to be pretty stupid to not forgive you. Even I'm not that thick!"

Just as I was about to scold him for putting himself down again, he kissed me. I grasped his shoulder to gather him closer to me, delighted when his arm around my waist tightened. With our bodies in such close contact, I easily felt the evidence of his body responding to me and I had a renewed sense of wanting to show him how much I loved him.

"Ron? I know you said you have something you want to work through, but I can't think of a better way to prove to you how wrong that locket was."

He looked at me openly, hopefully, as though he trusted his life in my hands. I promised myself I would never again betray that trust.

I looked at him and smiled. "Let's make some new memories."

His genuine smile told me I had finally gotten through to him.

Time to make beautiful new memories.


Thanks so much for reading! The last chapter will be posted in a couple days. Reviews are loved and appreciated! -Risie :o)