A/N: Thanks again to all who read and review! Please be aware this chapter is NSFW.

"So." Harry glanced between Ron and Hermione, who sat beside each other at the Gryffindor table, and struggled to suppress a smirk. "I heard you lot had a good lunch break."

Ron looked up from his bowl of beef stew, unsmiling. "Shut. Up."

Hermione tore off a chunk of bread and dropped it into her bowl, watching it absorb the broth. She had spent the afternoon trying to ignore the burning guilt in her stomach over the way she had left things in his room. It wasn't over stopping their activities - Ron had never pressured her into anything - but the way she'd done it. Rather than blurt out excuses and bolt, she could have done the one thing he had asked and stayed to talk.

"Okay," said Harry, unfazed as he leaned to whisper loudly in Ginny's ear. "You'd think he'd be in a better mood."

"And you'd think you would mind your damn business."

Harry opened his mouth as if to continue goading him, but then seemed to think better of it and turned his attention back to his stew.

Ron, clearing his throat, tilted to the side to place his lips by Hermione's ear. "Let's go for a walk after this. It's still light out."

Hermione agreed, giving his thigh a light squeeze under the table. Despite her failure to eat lunch - she really did seek refuge in the library for the remainder of the hour - she wasn't terribly interested in dinner. Being alone with Ron, even if they were just walking and talking, seemed a higher priority. Quickly, they finished eating, and then made their way out of the hall, ignoring the watchful eyes of the rest of the students. Once they were outside, breathing in the cool evening air, Hermione took Ron's hand.

"I'm sorry about how I left earlier," said Hermione. "I shouldn't have just taken off like that."

"Yeah, why did you?" asked Ron. "I still wanted to spend time with you."

"It was just sort of mortifying," she explained as they strolled in the general direction of the Quidditch pitch. "And then I started thinking, what if we'd gotten farther than we did and he actually saw - saw me naked or-"

"Oh, I'd've shut the curtains-"

"I know we talked about it over the summer, what we'd do, but it feels different now that we're actually back at school. I feel more… exposed."

"Well, you had lost your knickers by that point," Ron smirked, narrowly dodging a fist to the arm.

"Stop it, I know you know what I mean."

"Yeah," he admitted, now serious, "I guess I do."

It's just not the same as it was before," Hermione clarified. "I know it was just Dean, and maybe it wasn't as big a deal as I thought, but I just want our privacy back. Like it was before."

"So…" Ron pursed his lips. "Is this your way of saying that it's going to be Christmas before we…"

"No, I don't think so." Smiling shyly, she stopped to take his free hand. "We could always go to the Room of Requirement."

"Or the prefects' bathroom." Ron had an impish smile cross over his face.

"Where Myrtle could pop up at any second?"

"But you'd be all soapy and wet and-"

"And we could have a bed in the Room of Requirement - we could actually have anything we wanted," said Hermione with excitement. "It could even be romantic."

"Oh, you don't think my dorm is romantic?" Ron feigned insult. "That hurts, Hermione."

"We could go there now, we've got plenty of time before curfew."

Hermione let herself picture it. The room could give them a luxurious king-sized bed, it could give them candlelight, but more importantly, it would give them all the time in the world. She wanted to feel his skin on hers, his warm breath on her lips, their bodies fully connected, as close and intimate as possible.

"It's your birthday next week," Ron said brightly, jarring Hermione out of her brief daydream. "Maybe we can figure out a way to sneak into Hogsmeade, I've, er, I've heard that Madame Rosmerta'll rent out rooms by the hour if you ask."

Hermione stared up at him. "How do you know that?"

"The wealth of knowledge known as my older brothers. Except, I don't know how we'd sneak in since all the old passageways are closed off." Suddenly he looked aggravated. "I hate being holed up here. If we were back home, I'd totally splash out for your birthday, here I can't even take you on a date."

"You don't have to do anything." Dropping his hands, Hermione slipped her arms around his waist. "All I want is to spend it with you."

He did not look convinced. "It makes me feel like I'm a rubbish boyfriend… and I really don't want to screw things up with you."

"Believe me, you're not." Hermione stood on tiptoe to kiss his neck, then his jaw, then his lips. "I love you."

"Love you too." He kissed her again and then touched his lips to the tip of her nose. "Are you cold?"

"A little bit."

"Let's go inside, we'll warm you up."

Contrary to what Hermione had hoped, Ron's idea of warming up involved sitting in front of the common room fire and roasting the sweets that Ginny nicked from the kitchen over it. It was, for all intents and purposes, a typical Friday night at Hogwarts, and yet Hermione could not understand why he would rather do this than accompany her in the Room of Requirement. That morning he could hardly get enough of her and she knew he wasn't angry with her, so what had changed? By the time he was kissing her goodnight, his tongue tinged with chocolate, she had confused herself more than he had ever done.

A week passed, filled with Quidditch practice and Head Girl responsibilities and trying to make Ron buckle down and actually concentrate. He and Harry were infinitely more interested in arguing over which Quidditch team in the League had the best chances at winning and scouring the news for signs that the Wizengamot might rehear Kingsley's bill. When, inevitably, there was nothing, it rendered them irritated and sullen, as though they had expected to somehow will it into happening. Most nights, Hermione only had an hour or two to spend with Ron, and they always took place in the heavily-populated common room. She was starting to wonder if he would end up being right about having to wait until Christmas after all.

Hermione woke on Saturday morning to her bed bouncing and for one foolish moment thought Ron had broken into her room, but when she opened her eyes, a different Weasley was grinning down at her.

"Wake up!" Ginny urged from her seat at the foot of the bed. "I can't believe this is the one day you decide to have a lie-in."

Hermione sat up, noticing as she did that a small chocolate cupcake sat on her nightstand atop a slip of parchment.

Happy birthday, Hermione! read the note in Ron's messy scrawl. When you're ready, meet me in the common room. Love you!

"Ready?" Hermione looked up from the note. "Ready for what?"

Ginny gave an exaggerated shrug and climbed off the bed. "Even if I knew, I couldn't tell you."

Half an hour later, Hermione descended the staircase to see Ron alone in the common room. One knee bounced rapidly as he sat in an armchair, his head turning at the sound of her steps. Immediately he jumped up, his face alight with excitement, and crossed the distance between them.

"Happy birthday," he smiled, presenting her with a single, pristine red rose.

"Where did you get this?" asked Hermione, pleasantly surprised. Roses, after all, weren't exactly growing in the Herbology greenhouses.

"I Conjured it," Ron admitted. "I think I did all right, though there's no thorns on it, but that's probably good, actually."

"It's perfect," said Hermione, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Thank you."

He kissed her lightly and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Wait here, all right? I need to get Harry, he's part of the plan."

"Okay," she said warily as he bounded up to his dorm, taking the stairs two at a time. Any plan that required Harry's involvement certainly couldn't be expected to fully abide by the rules.

Harry, pajama-clad and bleary-eyed, gave Hermione a lazy wave in greeting and cleared his throat. "Kreacher?"

There was a crack like a car backfiring, and the ancient house-elf appeared, wearing a towel bearing the Hogwarts crest as a toga.

"Master Harry has called Kreacher?"

"Yes," said Harry, sitting on the arm of a nearby chair. "I need your help today. This is an order."

"Yes, Master Harry," said Kreacher dutifully.

"Today," Harry began, speaking very deliberately, "you need to take Ron and Hermione exactly where they ask you to take them, and then you're to come right back to the castle. And then later today, you're to go exactly where I tell you and bring them back to Gryffindor Tower. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master Harry."

"And you're not to speak of this to anyone else, all right? Just me, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. That's an order too."

"Kreacher will do what Master Harry wishes."

Harry shrugged and stood, gesturing grandly at the wrinkly elf before them and turning to face Ron and Hermione. "Your chariot awaits."

Before Hermione could voice her protests, Kreacher had seized her by the wrist and vanished into nothingness, rematerializing in the middle of High Street in Hogsmeade.

"Ron," she gasped as Kreacher disappeared, "we did not just Disapparate out of the castle."

"Oh, but we did," Ron said proudly, taking her hand and starting down the sidewalk. "And when we want to go back, I'll just send Harry a Patronus and he'll send Kreacher to get us."

"If we get caught, we will be in so much trouble-"

"Well, not really," Ron replied thoughtfully. "There's actually no rule that forbids leaving the castle by Apparition specifically, mostly because it can't be done by humans. So I might have found a loophole. And besides, McGonagall would never expel you."

"I suppose…"

"The worst we're looking at is detention, and it's worth the risk to me. Now come on," he said, pushing through the door to the Three Broomsticks, "I'm taking you out to breakfast."

Unbeknownst to Hermione, the Three Broomsticks did indeed serve breakfast on weekend mornings. Ron insisted on ordering enormous full English breakfasts, which they washed down with tea and pumpkin juice. It was funny, Hermione thought, how they saw each other every day, they had nearly every class together, and yet one-on-one time like this made her feel like she hadn't properly seen him in weeks. For once they had each other's undivided attention and the words just flowed freely, old reminiscences about their first trip together into the village and speculation on what the future might hold.

"So," said Ron, pushing away his empty plate, "this is the point where I, er… give you your gift."

"I really didn't want you to buy me anything-"

"It's not the sort of thing you buy," he said as his ears turned red. "Well, I reckon you could, but I wouldn't want you to - anyway, I'll be right back."

He strolled over to the bar, where he exchanged a few words with Madame Rosmerta and returned with a small brass key on a loop of ribbon. Hermione hesitated: the pub was low on patrons at this early hour, but it wasn't completely empty. Then again, time alone with Ron was at a premium lately, and unlike in Gryffindor tower, she could be certain that nobody would interrupt them… and if they could just manage to slip up the stairs undetected...

Taking Ron's hand, Hermione followed him up the staircase to the rented rooms. Theirs was number seven, at the very end of the hallway. It contained a neatly made double bed, a wooden dresser and had a door off to one side that Hermione assumed opened up to the loo.

"We have the room for three hours," Ron explained, toeing off his shoes. Through the window on the far wall, Hermione could see the Scottish Highlands and Hogwarts in the distance. She had first visited this place when she was fourteen but it felt like a completely different world now, here, on her nineteenth birthday with the man she loved. And she was going to make the most of that.

She couldn't have said who acted first: their lips crushed together almost of their own accord, hands grasping at clothing, eagerly removing layer after layer until Hermione was reduced to a bra and knickers and Ron down to his pants. Shoving aside the duvet, they fell back onto the bed, Ron lavishing kisses onto her neck and over her chest. His lips drifted down to the subtle curve of her breasts, hands shifting the lacy material of her bra away. Reaching between her shoulder blades, he found the clasp of her bra and fumbled with it, laughing into the curve of her neck.

"I'm out of practice," he joked just before the clasp popped open.

With one hand, he shoved the garment away, now running his tongue along the underside of her breast, allowing his teeth to nip lightly at her soft skin. Hermione's breath hitched in her throat as Ron placed a soft kiss on her nipple and then moved to her other side. Gradually, almost agonizingly so, Ron's attention moved lower, down her torso and past her belly button until he was faced with the waistband of her knickers. A familiar pulsing developed between her legs as Ron rendered her completely bare and pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh.

As his tongue swept over her damp folds, a ragged sigh fell from her lips. They had three whole hours, they could take their time, there was no need to rush the way they would have done had they continued on in his dorm last week. Ron hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her up so he could slide two fingers into her warmth. As his hand pumped in and out of her, his tongue worked at her swollen nub, eliciting throaty whimpers and causing her to angle her hips into his mouth.

"Ron…" Hermione's legs writhed around on the bedsheets, her hands delving into his hair. "Don't stop, oh God…"

Her hips rising up from the mattress, Hermione let out a heavy moan and tightened her fingers around Ron's hair. Heart pounding, her legs trembled, chest heaving, as Ron eased his hand out of her.

"You okay?" asked Ron, a bit out of breath himself as he wiped off his mouth.

"Mhmm." Hermione arched her back, little aftershocks of pleasure coursing through her. "I take it that was the gift?"

He laid a wet kiss on the inside of her thigh, grinning as his lips landed on her skin. "Maybe…"

Still trembling, Hermione slid her hands over his shoulders, tugging on his upper arms. "Come here."

Ron crawled up her body, kissing her shoulder and neck as Hermione reached for the waist of his pants and pushed them down over his hips. He kicked them off, his tip pressing against her. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod and wound her legs around his waist, sighing as he pushed inside.

"Fuck," he groaned, thrusting fervently into her. "Fuck, you feel so good."

Hermione brought her lips to his neck, using her heels to drive him deeper inside. Gone was the desire to savor and appreciate the moment; there would be time for that later. Now, she just wanted to feel him, hard and fast, and he obliged. He hitched her leg high up on his hip, using her thigh to hold her in place as their bodies crashed together. The motion of Ron's hips grew frenzied and erratic and Hermione's walls clamped tightly around him. Grunting out her name, Ron spilled into her, his mouth on her neck. For a moment, as the room slowly came back into focus, they remained locked together, regaining their composure.

"Fuck," he muttered again, gently withdrawing from her and catching her lips with his. "Bloody brilliant."

"It was," Hermione couldn't help but agree.

Ron sat up and reached for the foot of the bed, drawing a crisp white linen sheet over their bare bodies. Lying on his side, he used his arm as a pillow and trailed his free hand over her stomach, up her chest and along her neck, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. The corner of his mouth tilted upward.

"I love you," he said quietly, his voice brimming with such sincerity that Hermione felt sure her heart skipped a beat. "I'm really glad you were born. Do I sound like a prat saying that?"

She shook her head. "I love you too," she replied in the instant before their lips met in a soft, slow kiss. Hermione would have gladly stayed that way for the rest of their time at the inn, lazily moving her mouth over his, but he released a breath and pulled away.

"God, I've missed you," he remarked with an air of incredulity. "Isn't that mental? And I don't just mean that I miss this - I mean, I do, but - I just miss you. I know we see each other every day but we're always in class or there's people around and it's never just us anymore."

"I know what you mean." Hermione knew the words she wanted to say carried the risk of sounding sappy or trite, but she continued anyway. "I miss falling asleep with you."

"Me too!" Ron smiled widely at her. "It's just not the same listening to Harry's snoring instead of yours."

"Excuse me? I don't snore."

Ron, looking personally affronted, dropped his jaw open. "Excuse me, yes you do. You snore like a troll."

"Do not!" Hermione objected, pinching his chest.

"I would know, wouldn't I?"

"Oh, you would? Have you had lots of slumber parties with trolls, then?"

Ron laughed, rolling on top of her and fitting his lips against hers. The sensation of their bare chests pressed together stole her breath and she kissed him again, her fingers in his hair to keep him close. All joking now forgotten, Hermione moved a knee to either side of his waist. There was still time left before they had to return to reality, to curfews and dorm rooms and classes, and she was ready now to cling to it, to soak in every second.

Their hips nestled together, Hermione brushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes and kissed him, pulling his lower lip into her mouth.

"Do you want to? Again?"

With a nod, Hermione placed her hands on his sides. "Let's go slow this time."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, slipping inside.

Hermione ran her hands over his back as he moved gently, carefully within her. Burying her face in his neck, she let her eyes drift shut and focused only on him, on his sweat and his voice and the feeling of being completely filled by him. Their lips sought each other out in sloppy, affectionate kisses; sometimes they missed each other's mouths and they just laughed and tried again. It was everything she wanted, everything she had longed for over the past nineteen days.

"What were we talking about, before?" Ron asked when they had finished, Hermione snuggled into his side.

"Troll slumber parties, I think?"

"Right." Ron picked up the hand of hers that was lying on his chest and kissed her fingertips, then her wrist; Hermione hooked a leg over his. "Careful with that or I'm going to start getting ideas."

"How much time do we have left?"

"Not enough," said Ron, before extending an arm to retrieve his watch from the nightstand to actually check.

"Just lay with me," said Hermione. "We never get to do this anymore."

Ron kissed her forehead and hugged her as close as he could. Closing her eyes, Hermione listened to the dull thudding of his heart in her ear and took a deep breath. Here, with him, she could relax, focus on his hand drifting along her spine…

"Hermione." She was being nudged awake. "Love, we've got to go in five minutes."

"Really?" But Ron was so warm, and the bed was so soft, and now that she'd had a bit of a nap, a third go with him sounded rather enticing, and who knew when they would get the chance again?

"Yeah, we've got to go." He kissed her and rolled out of bed, searching for his pants amongst the discarded clothing strewn over the floor. As he pulled them on, Hermione sat up, tangled sheets covering her chest, and shamelessly watched him. "What are you looking at?"

"You," she stated plainly. "Can't I admire you?"

Amused, he shook his head and bent over to kiss her soundly on the mouth. "I hate to say it, but you've got to get dressed."

Since they had missed lunch up at the castle, they opted to have another meal at the Three Broomsticks. After the morning they'd had, they were parched and ravenous and Hermione was sure it was no secret to anyone else why, but she pushed the embarrassment to the back of her mind. It was nothing to be ashamed of, being intimate with her boyfriend. They were adults and they loved each other and there was nothing wrong with wanting to express that, even if their circumstances meant they had to sneak around to do it.

After lunch, Ron declared that no trip to Hogsmeade was complete without a visit to Honeydukes. There, he insisted on buying Hermione a batch of fudge and snuck in some Sugar Quills at the last second.

"I suppose we should be getting back," Hermione said when they stepped onto the sidewalk, laden down with treats.

Ron let out a long, almost weary breath. "Yeah, reckon so. All right, I'll let Harry know."

A casual flick of his wand sent a silver terrier streaking through the sky toward the castle. Within minutes, Kreacher appeared, looking a bit sullen.

"Thanks for your help, Kreacher," Ron said kindly as the elf grabbed his wrist with a bony, long-fingered hand.

"Kreacher is just following Master Harry's orders," explained the elf just before the three of them vanished. After half an instant of suffocation and darkness, they found themselves standing in the Gryffindor common room, face to face with one other than Minerva McGonagall. Hermione's stomach flipped violently at the sight of the Headmaster; the bag of candy slipped from Ron's fingers and thudded to the floor.

"Miss Granger. Mister Weasley." Her mouth was set in a thin, straight line. "Come with me, please."

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