CHAPTERCONTAINSLEMONSCHAPTER CONTAINSLEMONSCHAPTERCONTAIN SLEMONSCHAPTERCONTAINSLEMONS CHAPTERCONTAINSLEMONSCHAPTER CONTAINSLEMONSCHAPTERCONTAIN SLEMONSCHAPTERCONTAINSLEMONS CHAPTERCONTAINSLEMONSCHAPTER CONTAINSLEMONSCHAPTERCONTAIN SLEMONSCHAPTERCONTAINSLEMONS CHAPTERCONTAINSLEMONSCHAPTER CONTAINSLEMONSCHAPTERCONTAIN SLEMONSCHAPTERCONTAINSLEMONS CHAPTERCONTAINSLEMONSCHAPTER CONTAINSLEMONS. Just be aware, kay?

oOo

The members of the jury stared down at her like a bat colony in the shadowy roof of a cave. They nattered to one another. Some simply stared at her.

"Stand still, Miss Granger," said a male voice behind her. She flinched and spun round. A man in purple robes stood with his wand at her head. "We need to extract memories of the past year. Of course, you can decline."

Hermione glanced round at the jury. A severe-looking elderly man sat in the minister's seat staring right at her, seemingly watching for incompliance or misconduct.

"You may," said Hermione, becoming still as she faced the front. The tip of the wizard's wand tickled her temple. In her peripheral, her memories glowed silver. The jury became quiet.

oOo

24 hours earlier...

"So, we have a number of options," began Hermione.

"Mmm..." Ron kissed her neck. His hands remained at her hips.

"We can take ten portkeys across Europe and Asia to Australia without much trouble. That will take three weeks."

"Mmm..."

"Or, we can take one to Singapore, stay for a week, then take one to Australia. That'll take less time."

"Mhmm..."

"Or, we can wait get sorted quickly, take the portkey that leaves in two days and be very, very sick when we arrive."

"Mmm...'Mione..."

"I think we'll do that one. We're big kids, we can handle a little nausea. We'll take sickness tablets. Or we could go an aeroplane, but-"

"WHOA!"

Ron sat bolt upright, a look of horror plastered on his face. "I know what aeroplanes are. You are NOT dragging to one of your muggle death-traps, you sick wench!"

"You're such a baby!" she poked him in the ribs. "We can't afford plane tickets anyway. I don't have a sickle to my name and you..."

She paused, watching Ron compose his face. Hermione has always spoken with tact and thought. Why did Ron always conjure up her ability to sound like a bitch?

"...you need to save up. You know, for whatever you're planning to do next year."

Ron leant back into the sofa, resting a hand on her thigh. Like an old couple. Hermione loved that.

"I'm gunna help George with his shop. I spoke to him about it a few days ago."

Hermione smiled. "Good. I'm glad."

"You don't think it's a stupid idea?"

"Of course not! If it's what you want to do, then-"

"Not forever..." Ron sat up and leant his chin on his hand. "Don't get me wrong, I wanna help George get his business going again, it's just... I don't think he knows how to be alone."

Hermione's stomach fluttered as her boyfriend spoke with such ardent tenderness. She reached over, and put a hand on his cheek, gently pulling him to face her.

"I'll miss you a lot, when I'm gone."

Ron smiled half-heartedly. "We can meet up at Hogsmeade."

Hermione grinned back. "Yes we can."

They started kissing again, just like they had been before the aeroplane was mentioned. Only, Hermione wasn't as preoccupied as before. She was engaged in this particular activity, and wherever Ron's hands went, goose-bumps were raised.

When she was kissing Ron, Hermione was daring. She was hardly ever her logical self. There was just a spark of irritating insecurity every now and then to remind her not to go overboard. But now, she was safe from harm. They were curled up on his bed, with his parents downstairs. He'd been kissing her neck for long enough.

"Allow me," she growled, pushing him back. She sat up and threw a leg over his thighs, sliding across to straddle him. She didn't want to think about what she was currently doing, but she sure enjoyed feeling this much alive. He stared wide-eyed up at her in amazement. She grinned before ducking her head to kiss his neck.

"Blimey, Hermione..." he breathed.

"Mmm?" her lips froze at the base of his neck

"N-nothing. You can c-carry on..."

She grinned, and continued her ministrations. She shifted forward so that their chests met and hips bumped accidentally. It was a conflicting emotional journey, snogging Ron. The liberating feeling that she could finally snog him, that he was finally hers, and that she could make him react like this... she felt, for the time, that she was attractive. In the past, Ron had had a taste for very pretty women. Now, the bulge in his trousers was for her.

"Ronald and- ARGH!"

Ron and Hermione leapt apart, throwing themselves to opposite ends of the bed.

"MUM!" squeaked Ron, grabbing a pillow. Molly Weasley stood in the open doorway, a wavering manic grin plastered across her face to hide her horror.

"Ronald, Hermione... pleasant afternoon?" Mrs Weasley whimpered weakly.

"Why didn't you knock?!" Ron shouted, clutching the pillow to his crotch. Hermione felt her face burning red.

"The door was open,"

"No it wasn't!"

"It must've... opened by itself..."

"Oh brilliant. You hear that, Hermione? Our bedroom door is possessed. Mum, what do you want?"

Ron's reference to their bedroom lingered in the air like smog. Hermione would've been happy, had Mrs Weasley been one suggestive comment away from exploding.

"I wanted to talk to you about Hermione's trial tomorrow."

Hermione held her breath.

"...go on, then!" commanded Ron.

Mrs Weasley cleared her throat. "Will you be coming with us, Ron? To the ministry."

"'Course I'll be going. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Don't talk to me like that, Ronald, it's disrespectful," his mother scolded. "Harry wants to go to. He says it's his duty."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Ronald, I hope you're not losing your temper with me..."

"No, mother."

"Good. I wasn't sure you were going. You two have so many arrangements to be getting on with for your trip to Australia. When is it that you're going?"

The pair exchanged an anxious glance.

"Mum, we erm... we need to talk to you about that."

oOo

Present Day...

"Miss Granger," began the old man. His low voice was intense and penetrating. "Do you swear on possession of your wand that you will answer all questions put to you truthfully?"

"I do," Hermione spoke a little too loudly. Her voice echoed around the marble room, startling everyone.

"Very well," the old man adorned a pair of half-moon spectacles. Hermione's heart panged. "We shall begin."

Everybody leaned forward. The old man shuffled some papers on his high desk.

"You are Hermione Jean Granger, daughter of muggles Robert and Jean Granger. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You started Hogwarts in 1991?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You have known Mister Harry Potter since...?"

"Since our first year at Hogwarts."

"Mr Potter claims that you and Mister Ronald Weasley were close companions throughout your time at Hogwarts. Do you deny that?"

"Not at all, Sir."

"Please could you describe your relationship with Mister Harry Potter?"

"We're just friends," she said quickly. "I mean, we're very good friends. He's my best friend. We've known each other since our first year at Hogwarts."

"And have you ever been romantically or sexually involved with him?"

Hermione balked. "Er... no, Sir."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

oOo

22 hours earlier...

"Harry?" Ron knocked on Ginny's bedroom door. It made him shudder that this room should be Harry's default hiding place, but it would be hypocrisy to berate him for it. After all, Ron spent hours in his room with Hermione these days, so much that he'd neglected to talk to his best friend. The last time they'd spoken, things had been revealed and the conversation had been tense.

"Come in," said Harry from behind the door.

Ron entered. He found Harry sitting at Ginny's desk alone, reading over a newspaper.

"What you up to?" asked Ron casually.

Harry shrugged. "Just glossing over the news, checking that there isn't any libel nonsense about me."

"There's no need to stay cooped up in here. Why don't you go downstairs?"

Harry shrugged again.

"I'd invite you on a walk with Hermione and me, but I thinks she wants a chat with you in private."

Harry looked a little nervous. "Oh yeah? What about?"

Ron shut the door and sat down on Ginny's bed. "You know last time we spoke and I called you a complacent fuck?"

"Er, yeah..."

"I think Hermione's gunna say something similar to you. She was a bit annoyed that you told me about her going to Hogwarts before she'd spoken to me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sorry and all that, but she was taking a while to tell you. I didn't think it was fair."

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "She was getting around to it. She was waiting for the right time."

Harry snorted. "When was that? You two are always cooped up in your room together."

"Is that a problem?"

"Yes, actually. I defeated Voldemort and spent years battling him, now I... I dunno, I need someone to talk to."

"Well, Hermione and me are open ears! If you wanna talk, don't be shy!"

"'Hermione and me,', you sound like you did with Lavender! I killed Voldemort and you two are acting like giggly first years around each other, necking behind the tool shed and planning holidays... in the scheme of things, isn't that a bit... frivolous?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Ron stood up and held up his hands. "Yeah, you killed Voldie, mate, but don't get cocky. You wouldn't have been able to do it without-"

"I know, Ron, but-"

"-Hermione and me, we destroyed horcruxes too, we killed death eaters and we saved your bloody skin! And there is nothing frivolous or irrelevant or trivial about my relationship with Hermione. I love her."

That shut Harry up.

"I love her. And we're not planning any fucking holidays, mate. We're going to Australia to get her parents back," Ron straightened up and crossed his arms. He was even starting to act like Hermione... "we're leaving the day after Hermione's trial. I spoke to Mum. She was pissed, but... we're adults. She gets that now."

Harry remained silent. Ron felt it to be a good time to leave. He pulled the bedroom door open.

"And another thing," said Ron quickly, remembering something that Hermione had hinted at in an earlier conversation. "If you hurt my sister again, I'll rip your bollocks off."

"Same to you, mate," said Harry, suddenly very calm and composed. Ron said nothing. He merely stepped into the hallway and slammed the door.

Standing in the hallway was his mother, watery-eyed and quiet, having heard every word.

oOo

Present day...

The old man glanced down at his papers. He read them for a moment.

"It says here that you, Mister Potter and Mister Weasley were often found to be at the forefront of suspicion when it came to disturbances at Hogwarts school. How do you explain that?"

"I'm... not sure that I understand."

The old man shrugged. "How do you account for your track record of impossible heroism at the school?"

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "Dumb luck?"

The jury began whispering to each other as the old man looked offended.

"Miss Granger, you spent nearly a year searching for horcruxes with Mister Potter and Mister Weasley. That must've been hard work."

"It was," she didn't have to think about her answer. It was just a reflex response. Modesty often lead to long complimentary speeches. Plus, she'd sworn to tell the truth.

"There must have been times of tension and frustration. Did you ever feel that the plan to destroy all the horcruxes was failing?"

Memories of her pessimism on the road stung her eyes. "There were some days where I felt that what we were doing was pointless, but we trusted Harry. I never wanted to give up."

"There were no disagreements? No fights?"

Ron. Of course.

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Did anybody turn against someone else?"

There was Ron. Ron paving the way for his overwhelming guilt and regret.

"Not exactly."

Hermione's pulse pounded in her ears. She breathed deeply.

"What do you mean by that, Miss Granger?"

"There were... moments of tension, as can be expected, but... we're all still friends. We live together."

"Mister Potter claimed that there were no disagreements during the quest. Was he telling the truth?"

The jury leant forward. Hermione thought back to what the three of them had spoken about before the trials. They'd known that the purpose of this trial was for potential media attention. If she accused Harry of lying, things would go from bad to worse.

"He was telling the truth, Sir."

The jury were calm.

Only for a second.

A man in red robes shuffled along the rows of jurors towards the ex-minister's desk where the judge sat. As he approached, Hermione's heart crashed against her rib cage. He whispered something in the other man's ear that was seemingly surprising.

"Miss Granger..." began the old man again. "... your extracted memories clearly show that Mister Weasley was absent from the quest for several months."

The jury erupted into scandalous whispers and murmurs.

"I... yes, he was, but-"

"You have lied to the jury and broken your oath."

"No, I-"

"Miss Granger, you have committed perjury and that is a crime worthy of a spell in Azkaban."

"NO!" she screamed.

"Members of the Jury, we shall put Miss Granger's sentence to a vote."

"What?! NO! THIS IS MADNESS!" she cried. The locked courtroom door behind her was rattling. Ron, Harry and his parents were out there. They could probably hear.

"MISTER SCURVEY!" roared a man's voice. The jury fell silent. Hermione searched the seats. There was a red-headed man standing up at the back, glaring at the judge. Hermione recognised him immediately as Reginald Cattermole.

"Mister Scurvey, this is barbaric. We can't send a girl to Azkaban for telling a fib. This isn't about ministry betrayal, it's about three teenagers having an argument," Reginald Cattermole glanced briefly at Hermione, as did many other members of the jury. "The dark lord is dead and there are death eaters to defeat. Why are we still here?"

The old man slowly turned purple.

"Members of the Jury..." he seethed. "Those in favour of sentencing Hermione Jean Granger to two years in Azkaban prison for committing perjury?"

No hands were raised.

"Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?"

A forest of hands was erected.

"Cleared."

oOo

3 hours later...

"Hermione?" Mrs Weasley tried again.

They'd arrived home after a silent journey back. Mr Weasley had dealt with admin and paperwork. Mrs Weasley had bought her endless cups of tea and Ron had watched her anxiously.

Mrs Weasley sighed. "Ron, why don't you take Hermione upstairs. I imagine she wants to be alone."

Ron nodded and took Hermione's hand. They set off up the stairs quickly before Harry could run after them.

Unbeknown to Ron, Hermione was not in any state of shock whatsoever. Rather, she'd been thinking. A lot.

They reached his room and Ron sat her down. Rain was pounding at Ron's bedroom window.

"You want some water?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Hermione, come on. Speak to me!"

After a silent minute, he sat down on the bed beside her. Ah, his warmth was there again. She wanted to lean into him, but that was not how she wanted this to start. Bless Mrs Weasley for allowing them some time alone...

"I lied to them. I lied during my trial and they were going to arrest me."

Ron bit his lip and put an arm round her. "I know. We could hear it all."

"I was going to spend two years in a prison cell."

"No, you weren't. They weren't ever going to send you away. We would've gone in all-wands blazing if they had."

"I was so scared...I was so stupid!"

Ron quickly kissed her cheek. She turned to him. He was gazing at her with utter adoration. No hint of anger, disappointment or fear.

"You're barmy, 'Mione. I love you, but you're really bloody mental."

That strengthened her resolve. She quickly wiped her tears away and cleared her throat.

"You were right, you know. We do only have one life."

Ron smirked and shrugged. "You can't really fault that fact."

"And... and I wish I could be as brave as you and just... ignore all these little insecurities and-"

"Whoa, Hermione. What insecurities are those?"

She looked at him gravely. Now was not the time. In her eyes, there would never be a proper time. Whenever she did feel ready to show him how utterly repulsive her battle wounds were, it would hurt. He'd rip her fears away from her like a band aid. For the time being, she would do all that she could for him.

"They're just silly girl things, Ron."

"Hermione, what-"

"Ronald," she began firmly. He stopped talking. "I've been thinking. There are some things that I'm really not brave enough to tackle yet. Until then, I... I want to start small. I want to ease us into it... if it's okay with you."

He looked lost. "What are you on about?"

She swallowed her nerves. She would show him. He was a tactile being, after all.

Without hesitation, she grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She tossed it on the floor and shook her hair out, feeling incredibly warm under Ron's gobsmacked gaze.

His eyes were glued unashamedly at her chest, clad in a black bra: the only remotely provocative garment she owned. Merlin bless her choice of undergarment this morning.

Hermione was acutely aware that her chest size was nothing compared to that of Lavender Brown or any other female she knew. They existed, though. They were visible. That seemed to suit Ron nicely.

"Hermione... you..."

"Are you alright?"

"Yep."

"Good."

She leaned in and kissed him. No starting slow, no chaste beginning... she kissed him hard and went from there.

She gently pushed him so that his back met the headboard. Her hand that was at his shoulder began to twitch. This was madness that she welcomed.

One of his arms cradled her body. The other hand remained at her cheek. This was perfect...

Her hand left his shoulder and trailed lightly and slowly down his chest, down his stomach and made contact with the crotch of his jeans.

His lips left hers. His eyes bulged.

"Hermione! Wh-what are you..."

"It's okay," she said softly. "I want to do this for you. But, if you don't want to, then I can stop..."

"No!" he yelped. He blushed scarlet. "I mean... I mean..."

She smiled shyly and leant back towards him, capturing his lips with hers. He kissed her very enthusiastically.

She moved her hand back to his jeans and experimentally rubbed once. His hips bucked and she smiled against his lips. Maybe this wouldn't be as scary as she'd thought...

She did it again. His hips jerked. She did it again. He moaned. He actually moaned. She'd made him moan.

She tore her lips away from his. He stared down where her hand met his jeans in astonishment. He gulped.

"Are you nervous, Ron?"

"Nope!" he squeaked. "I'm just... er..."

Hermione looked down. He was really, quite obviously aroused. It was amazing. She'd done that to a boy. She'd done that to Ron.

She reached down with both hands and unbuckled his belt. This alone made her want to take this further. If only she had any ounce of bravery...

"You don't have to do this, 'Mione,"

She was startled by how low and gravelly his voice was.

"I want to," she said firmly. She held her breath and reached inside his pants.

He squeaked.

"Did that hurt?"

"Nope!"

"Okay..."

She started rubbing him again, knowing she couldn't continue this way. This wasn't how it was done. She'd overheard enough idle gossip and read enough romance novels to know what to do. It was mortifying, but she pulled his jeans and pants down the rest of the way and just... pulled it out.

It was a lot different to how she'd imagined. She'd previously found the male anatomy to be terrifying: invasive and inevitably painful. But Ron's penis was... quite pleasurable to look at. What had she said before about starting small?

For heaven's sake, Granger, stop staring at it... she told herself. Ron was blushing after all...

She ran her hand down it, back up, back down. Ron started to breath loudly.

"How's that?"

"Bloody brilliant..." he sighed, leaning back. Before his head hit the pillow, his eyes snapped open in mortification. He glanced at her anxiously. She herself was blushing furiously. Romance was nice, but the world of sex was a flattering place to be complimented.

She worked faster. He breathed harder, squeezed his eyes shut tighter and moaned louder. As aroused as she was, she felt rather ridiculous. Was this all there was too it? A few flicks of the wrist? Wasn't there something more... intricate to do?

"'Mione... oh god..." he breathed as his hips began jerking more erratically. His mouth snapped open.

Hermione found herself panting too. There was some urge inside her that she was fighting. Clichés aside, it was animalistic. It reminded that humans, as brilliant as they could be, were simply another species on the planet, with natural urges, instincts and reactions and there was no shame in simply acting on impulse when it came to natural animalistic processes. This logical justification for her sex drive was what lead her to dip her head down, take him in her mouth and suck.

"FUCKING HELL!" Ron roared.

He came undone in a matter of seconds.

When he was finished, Hermione sat up, subtly trying to wipe her mouth. Her cheeks were burning. Ron lay there, eyelids drooping and mouth still hanging open.

"What... the... fuck?!" he gasped, grappling to pull up his jeans.

Oh, Hermione... she thought to herself. What were you thinking?

"Sorry..." she mumbled. "I thought..." she trailed off. What had she thought? That he'd be into that? That he was ready for that? That boys liked that sort of thing? Who are you trying to fool, Hermione? She thought to herself. Like you'd know anything about the inner workings of the male mind...

Suddenly, Ron reached out and grabbed her hand. He stroked the back of it with his thumb.

"Is 'thank you' a bit inappropriate for me to say?" he asked.

"I'm really sorry, Ron, I... I haven't, erm... I didn't..."

"Why the bloody hell are you apologising, you barmy woman?" he sat up properly, cross-legged, as though nothing had happened.

"You looked terrified!" her face burned again. Was there any merit in apparating into a different room right now?

"No, er... I wasn't terrified. That was... that was cool. Unexpected, though. Unexpected, but... bloody amazing."

She sucked in her cheeks, hiding a grin. How ridiculous, getting all giddy and proud over an act that was about as romantic as a sneeze.

Ron's own blush returned. He swallowed uncomfortably and looked away from her.

"Oh Ron, was it awful? I'm so sorry, I-"

"No, no, it was brilliant! I just, erm... I can do the same. You know, to you. If you want." he looked just about ready to let the ground swallow him up.

"No!" she said quickly. "Th-that's okay. Erm..." Ron looked hurt. "Definitely at some point, though, obviously..."

Her abilities and making every day phrases sound sex-crazed was unparalleled.

"'kay... you sure?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

She smiled softly. "I'm sure. I think we've done quite enough experimenting for one day, don't you?"

"Oh, that was an experiment, was it?"

"Yes. The hypothesis being that I could give my boyfriend an orgasm, the experiment being a hand job and the conclusion being a resounding 'yes'."

They stared blankly at each other: Hermione forcing herself to ignore her uncharacteristically dirty language and Ron hiding his amusement, astonishment and arousal.

He wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and pulled her down to lie beside him on the bed. He kept his arms there and kissed her forehead.

"Feel free to experiment on me whenever you like. I promise I won't grumble."

"Oh, what am empty promise. I can assure you that you'll moan."

Wow. A tentative hand job and created a sexual prowess within Hermione.

They lay in silence, contemplating what happened and reveling in their position in each others' arms. Ron's proposition echoed in Hermione's mind, stirring up an new anxiety. She's opened a can of worms, now.

oOo

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Christmas + hospital = nope.

So yeah, I hope that quenched a few thirsts. I promise that in the next chapter, her insecurities will be addressed. Please no death threats. It's cool if you hated that chapter, but there's really no need for reviews that say "shit." because that's about as helpful as paper bathtub, savvy?

Nel X