A/N: I'm really losing steam with this story, and you can probably tell with this chapter. I think I'm going to wrap it up after another chapter or two. I've just lost my enthusiasm. I love Ron and Hermione, and I want to do them justice.
Disclaimer: I don't own HP. Aww, shucks.
"I don't think we're ever going to find it," Ron groaned.
"Stop being so negative, Ron. Finding a flat is never easy for anyone."
"We've been to thousands, and I'm hungry," he said grumpily.
Hermione sighed. No matter how much she loved Ron, she hated when he slipped into one of his moods. Just like a child, she thought to herself.
"If you're going to be difficult about this, I'm not going to move in with you, Ron. I will simply refuse."
He paused. "Don't say that, Hermione. I need you."
Ron moved to kiss her neck, but she shied away from him, still angry with his little tantrums.
"Ron, you need to stop being so infantile. I'm sorry that this is taking so long, but you need to be an adult about it and stop complaining!" Hermione's face was red with anger. Ron loved that look on her face, though he hated it when it was directed at her.
They had grown past the heated rows of their youth, but they still knew how to fight. Most of the time, it just led to hot makeup sex, but there were times where Hermione caved into silence, and Ron got nothing more than her cold shoulder.
He prayed this was the former, rather than the latter.
"This is the last one we're looking at today," she said, yanking the heavy door open to the flat. It was an "open house" in a flat in Muggle London, not too far from Diagon Alley, and Hermione walked up the stairs without waiting for Ron to catch up with her.
She paused at the top of the stairs, causing Ron to slam into the back of her. They both stared openly.
It was small, but clean, and was probably best described as "cozy." It had one bedroom and a tiny bathroom which had a bathtub with clawed feet, and a small living room and kitchen. The walls were painted a soft cream, a blank canvas for them to make the space their own. The view outside the windows wasn't spectacular, but it showcased the small neighborhood in all the best ways; the curry takeaway on the corner, a grocers, and a welcoming, busy pub.
It was tiny, but it was bright, and both Ron and Hermione could see themselves making a home there.
Anger melted away, Hermione turned to face Ron. "What do you think?" she asked breathlessly. Her eyes were bright with excitement.
Ron's expression matched hers. "I think this is it," he said, looking around and imagining all the different places he and Hermione could christen the place at, once they got furniture. Or before…
He dragged her into the kitchen, and leaned her against the island.
"We need to live here," he said, "so I can fuck you against this counter."
Hermione moaned and writhed against Ron's body, hard and strong against hers. He began nipping at her neck, in all the right places that made her ache with need for him. She loved it when Ron talked dirty.
"Is that what you want, Hermione?" Ron whispered huskily in her ear. "Does that make you hot, thinking about me fucking you hard against this island? Against the wall? In our bed?"
Hermione whimpered in agreement, and pulled Ron in for a firm kiss.
"Our bed… sounds nice," she said after they broke apart for air. Her head was spinning with the intensity of their kisses and the promise of the life they'd soon share together.
"Let's go make an offer before someone else does," she said, sliding off the counter and away from Ron's body. She wanted to christen the kitchen as much as he did, but she wanted to make sure it was officially theirs before they did so. Ron groaned.
"Hermione, I wanted to…"
She put her fingers to his lips to quiet him. "Patience, my love. Soon enough."
He groaned. "You know I have no patience."
"Tough," she teased. "Come on, love. Let's make this our home."