Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do make money.

59. Madness

Pansy wasn't sure what she was suppose to do now.

So she was sitting on Ron's bed waiting. Dressed in the same jersey she was basically living in these days. While he got ready for bed in the bathroom. Her fingers fiddling with the ring now on her right hand.

She knew what the girl she had been would be doing right now -- on her 'wedding' night. She would have hit Agent Provocateur and now be dressed in the finest and most erotic lingerie that money could buy. That same girl would be strategically posed on the bed waiting for her husband -- hoping that the first time wouldn't be so bad as everyone told her; praying for her to get through tonight and look for to learning more tomorrow.

But she wasn't that girl anymore.

So she didn't know what she was suppose to do as she sat there and waited.

By the time Ron finally appeared she had worked herself up to the point that the moment he walked in, she burst out in tears; babbling that she didn't know what to do, she didn't know what he expected, he had already done so much for her and she was so lost, so confused.

Through her tears she had watched him rush to her and pull her into his body before resting his on the bed.

Through her madness she heard him whisper, "please don't say that". But then the words muddled one into the other until she couldn't quite make out any of them through her own cries and gasps.

But like she had done so many times before, she clung to him: her lifeline, her lighthouse, her way out of the darkness that consumed her and dictated her every action and her every reaction.

And in the bright light, she found near the end of her tunnel, the one that was bright blue and glassy; she could have sworn for the briefest of seconds that she saw her peace, her sanctuary, her alter.

And in that sacred moment, she found something real she could cling to as his lips found hers.

Her mouth found it's way open willingly as she clawed her way to get her body closer to him.

Any panic that had been in her body seeped away by the time she felt him lay her on the bed; his body next to hers while still covering hers protectively. His mouth still searching and seeking hers; her hands still grasping and clenching to his body.

She felt his hand, one of the pair she knew so well; knew the calluses on his fingertips and the roughness of his palm -- caress her leg and trail up her body tentatively. Not because he was unsure of himself but she could feel he was giving her control -- even though she was on her back and tucked up underneath his bigger body. Her body instinctively arched towards his when his fingers skimmed her hips; the same time she heard him gasp and then groan when he realized that there was nothing under the jersey she wore.

The sounds she had pulled out of his mouth, gave her confidence in that he wanted her and would give her the time, space, control she so desperately needed at the moment.

When she held onto his arm tighter and pulled another groan from his mouth, she finally had the courage to say what the former her would have said posed in lingerie when he walked through the door; "Please Ron."

She heard him moan her name and it energized her; sending a warmth running through her body -- something she didn't know it could do as she pulled him back toward her, claiming his lips as much as his hands claimed her body.

Her already befuddled mind swirled deeper into the abyss of desire -- desire for him and of him -- as she fumbled with his clothes the same time he was fumbling with hers. The moment she felt his naked chest against her own, his legs against hers, she pressed her body and moaned his name in adoration for in this moment he was her god and saviour.

The madness that surrounded them gave way to something else as their desperation ebbed away; leaving two people searching for something more and hoping that the other had it. Their eyes met and locked as the grasping hands slowed to gentle caresses; the hungry kisses evolved into lingering connections; their bodies began to move together -- legs weaving together as hips molded into another as stomachs pressed as chests softly moved as necks glided and faces sought their sanctuary. Two bodies moving with the tide of the heavens in his childhood bed: two souls rolling in the ebbs and flows of the wind, earth, water, and fire as they curled around its children for the first of many times to come.

And as the natural choir of their bodies, hearts and souls reached their pinnacle, hallelujahs were not offered and deities were not praised but their own simple names were whispered breathlessly in utter adoration to be carried by a gentle wind as their hands, lips, eyes, ears, mouth, bodies sought to feel every inch, capture every moment, imprint every feeling, retain every sound in this gathering of two persons invoking a magic long forgotten.

As time flowed from this moment with two still beating hearts, lungs now softly moving, hands caressing the other as if for the first time -- the sanctuary longed for, sought for, fought for, now lays before them. Theirs for the first time: to have and to hold from this day forward.

With a gentle kiss that lingers and a firm hold that protects, Pansy falls asleep happy and content with a smile on her face to dream of red-headed children.