July 2001
Hermione leaned back against Ron's warm chest and sipped at her beer, watching the mess of writhing bodies on the dance floor at Zoom. He wrapped his arm around her and she looked up at him, smiling, and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw.
"Do you think that Harry has slept with Seamus?" she asked him, raising her voice over the beat of the music.
"Why would you even ask that?" he said, shaking his head. "There's one mental image that'll be hard to shift."
"Charlie asked me."
"Oh," Ron said, rubbing his face. "So it's not bad enough that I have to cope with the fact that my best friend is sleeping with my brother, I also have to deal with the fact that he possibly shags our mate, too?"
Hermione laughed. "Stop being such a prude."
Ron's fingers seemed to unconsciously play with her engagement ring as they both chatted to friends; it was a beautiful, square cut sapphire and she loved that he knew her well enough to guess that she wouldn't want an ostentatious diamond. Knowing that they'd dance together later was enough, Hermione was quite content to be sociable for the early part of the evening.
She maybe understood Harry better than most others. They considered his 'wild child rebellion' period just that - a phase, and hopefully one he'd grow out of before the talk about him becoming the youngest ever Minister for Magic became more than just talk. Hermione saw past the phase, and to the teenager (although not any more) who had had far too much responsibility placed on him at too young an age. This wasn't rebellion, this was Harry re-living his misspent youth.
And making a rather good go at it.
The leather trousers weren't just a fashion statement, although Hermione was sure they were that too; it turned out that the location of Sirius' old motorbike from the 80's wasn't such a big mystery after all. Hagrid had been keeping hold of it until he thought Harry was responsible enough (ha!) to be able to ride it. Fixing up the rusting heap of junk had taken Harry and Arthur months but it had been a good bonding experience for them, and now Harry was practically inseparable from it.
Now that his t-shirt had been stripped off (and deposited goodness knew where) Harry danced bare chested, in just those leather trousers, holding Charlie close to him. As a self-confessed Weasley admirer herself, Hermione could appreciate that Charlie, too, had inherited some of those good genes. Charlie and Bill often claimed that the handsome had been dished out early and that their younger siblings just didn't get their fair share, and she had to admit that the quiet, slightly dangerous look worked for the second-oldest Weasley son.
He wore dark jeans and a white shirt rolled up to his elbows which showed off his arms to best effect. It appeared that Harry had managed to insinuate all the buttons on the shirt either off or undone. As the two men fell into a heated kiss, ignoring all those around them, including the ones who were clearly hoping to be invited to join in, Hermione looked away with a small smile on her face.
And squeezed the bum of her own Weasley man.
A/N: I'm a big Ron/Hermione shipper. Love these two.
Thank you to everyone who is still reading, reviewing and recommending this story.
You're all wonderful people.
FF, however, is not. I'm still getting no review or PM alerts at all.
FF - you suck. That is all.