Chapter 9: The Bookworm is Deflowered

Whichever sad Aussie had thought it was a good idea to use standard light bulbs of an A19 shape with a G24 base for their hotel desk lamps ought to be…. well, certainly not shot, but definitely, definitely hexed.

It was deep night Down Under, in this seaside resort in Cardwell, a small and rural town on the Queensland coast. Outside her hotel window, there was a steady undercurrent of sound coming from the cicadas and the kookaburras. The mournful call of the bird made Hermione think of a song she was taught when she was a little girl:

"Kookabura sings in the old gum tree…."

Between the background noises of nature and this bloody hotel desk lamp, Hermione was truly burning her wand at both ends, as magical folk liked to say. And yet…. Bother it if the light didn't weaken her eyes! At least that's what she told herself to explain the moisture gathering behind her chocolate-brown orbs, as she angrily clicked the lamp's knob off with a huff, reclining back in the hotel desk chair, head in her palm.

Exhaling a deep, if not quite cleansing breath, Hermione sighed and hunched forward back over the desk and her documents, putting quill to paper. She had to finish this postcard and accompanying letter to Harry – it might be cheap, and clearly quite overdue, but things had just been so busy since she and Ron had landed here some weeks ago and tracked down her parents. Hermione simply hoped that her best mate would understand her tardiness, if not exactly her tackiness. A month traveling and living abroad, and if the only word she had to show for her correspondence efforts to friends was a silly postcard with a seaside view and a cute little koala bear on the front, she would probably be annoyed too, if she was the one waiting to receive word.

As usual, Hermione's hyperactive mind compartmentalized in its efficiency, penning this update to Harry while the other half of her brain wandered along with her thoughts.

On their journey here, Hermione's biggest fear had been that she would not know how to reverse the Memory Charm she had cast, or even if she did, that she would not reverse it correctly, or more horrid still, make her parents' memories worse. What she hadn't expected – what she probably should have expected – was that even in her success, Mum and Dad would be none too pleased with what they constituted as a deep betrayal on the part of their daughter. Hermione had been shaken when her explanation, delivered with the best of intentions, had done little to dissuade her parents from their clear disappointment in her. She could probably count on only one hand the number of times Mummy and Daddy had been disappointed in her – her academics had never given them cause to, and Mum had always maintained that she, Hermione, had been an exquisitely behaved little girl.

This, the unfamiliarity of seeing the farthest thing from pride in her parents' eyes, now with the scales having fallen from them, had been what had driven Hermione to tears at their first meeting, manufactured on false pretexts, at least until the spell could be counteracted.

I wanted to keep…. To keep you safe! Hermione had wept.

Safe? Safe from what? Hermione, why are we here?! Her resurrected father had roared with baffled frustration and outrage.

Ron had been such a gentleman – marvelous, and sweet, even ingenious. He had smooth-talked their way into the "Wilkins'" home by claiming that he had arranged for his girlfriend an in-home appointment, seeing as she was supposedly terrified of dental offices. A lie, clearly (her parents had given her cleanings since before she could talk), but a welcome one. At her side once the spell had been broken, the man she loved had been dear and supportive enough to realize that this would be the time to not say anything, or at least say very little. The little bit he had tried to get in edgewise had merely gotten Daddy's back up, the poor fellow. Poor fellows both. Still, Hermione had to allow herself an albeit wet smile: her boyfriend had definitely come far- with how he had conducted himself lo these several weeks, it was clear the man did not any longer have the emotional range of a teaspoon.

That hadn't stopped certain…. realities from becoming misconstrued once Hermione had tearfully rambled through her side of the story. Upon hearing that his only daughter, his little girl, had been shacking up for months in a tent…. with two boys, no less….. Mr. Granger had appeared in danger of popping a vessel. And also wanting to have a gentleman's go at Ron; between wands and fists (even though Ron wouldn't have dared to use magic as defense unless as a last resort), Hermione wasn't altogether sure who would win that bout. Ron had grown into a truly talented wizard, but Daddy had boxed at Oxford – home videotapes attested that her father still carried a mean right hook. She had felt the need to move between the two most important men in her life and insist that nothing had gone on untoward.

Once flared tempers had been cooled, the matter turned to closing up her parents' dental practice in the process of moving back to England. Though for the first few days, her parents, her father in particular, had been so bitter about being lied to and used, even in the interest of keeping them safe, that Hermione had begun to wonder if her mum and dad would want to return to England with her at all. Worse still, Hermione had begun to second-guess herself: had she really made a mistake, in sending them here? No, Ron had vehemently insisted to her when she had confided her fears to him. She grinned at how Ron could so easily choose to ignore how, technically, Hermione had been out-of-bounds as a matter of legality: use of the Memory Charm carried stiff penalties, up to and including jail time, in most cases and situations involving its casting. She had only been able to breathe easy when Interim Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt had informed her the Wizengamot would not press charges, given the extraordinary and unprecedented circumstances.

No, it was the moral argument for doing what she had done that was now leaving Hermione in such an anguishing place of self-doubt.

It had taken these many weeks just to achieve a thawing truce between herself and her folks. Mum was coming around more quickly; though David Granger had always been known to follow his wife's lead, there were moments where he was still stewing, brooding. A part of Hermione couldn't blame him – she would be hopping mad too, if someone had stolen her identities, then her memories and sent her away to live in a foreign country.

Some of those memories washed over her now: waking up in the Hospital Wing first year to find Ron's lopsided grin gazing down at her with relief, causing her heart to do a funny sort of flip-flop for the first time whenever she looked at him, an instinct that had yet to diminish and which she hoped never did. Punching the living daylights out of the man upon his return to the Hunt, and how that had been all she could do to avoid acting on what she really wanted to do, which had been to snog the living daylights out of him instead. Actually snogging him in the Room of Requirement, whispering hoarsely into his warm and firm mouth how she loved him, she loved him, and at last they had found each other, even if they were going to die here, tonight…..

The image of her and Ron's first kiss danced in her mind, and Hermione smiled goofily, in spite of herself, only for the warm and amber glow of the memory to be dampened by how her parents – really, her father – had reacted to the man in her life.

Hermione had never brought a boy home before – certainly not one from school. Dating had never been her focus anyhow, one her parents had definitely appreciated from her. So to have their little girl turn up on their doorstep with what looked to be her first real, serious boyfriend had been a shock. And once all the rather unfortunate stuff had come out about the tent…. well, damme, Hermione's father had insisted that his little girl spend nights here in their coastal house with them. Ron could go back to the hotel resort.

Oh, and no magic was to be used around them.

Hermione had been naturally stung and hurt about the moratorium on using her wand – before, her parents had been nothing but proud of her when she would read aloud spells from her schoolbooks at home. But she had put her foot down on being separated from Ron. Daddy had nearly gone through the roof at that one: "I will not have my little 'Mione shacking up and sleeping with some gangly orangutan of a bloke in some seaside resort!"

That rant had actually been kind of funny, especially the part about Ron and the orangutan, which, bless him, her man had taken rather quite well. Anyone other than her favorite redhead likely would have been insulted.

The awkwardness had come in explaining to her father that she and Ron were not sharing a room, let alone a bed. She and Ron had even brought her father here to the hotel to show him and prove it. Daddy had been less than pleased to learn that, while not sleeping the same room, Hermione and Ron still had conjoining rooms, with only a shared door separating them, so who was to say that anything could prevent Ron from simply just…. just….

Hermione blushed at the thought of it, before mentally slapping herself and returning to the task of finishing this letter for Harry. Perhaps she over-explained things in it, mostly an apology for having not written him, and she was careful enough to explain that the task before her was detailed and tedious and she wasn't sure exactly when she and Ron would be back, only that it would be sooner rather than later.

There was a knock at her door. Hermione quickly dashed off her signature to the letter, left the postcard blank and crossed to the window where a small owl was hopping and hooting impatiently. Passing both papers to the bird, she presented it a Sickle for its trouble and watched the little thing fly off into the night.

Dashing back to the conjoining door, she opened it.

"Did you forget some-Mmmmmm….." Hermione's question died happily in her throat as Ron suddenly gathered her in his arms, bent her back into a dip and kissed her bruisingly on the mouth. Melting into the embrace, Hermione looped her arms about his neck, her palms clutching his firm and broad shoulders as she snogged him back.

When Ron's lips briefly left hers and began to blaze a trail down to the soft curve of her neck, she gasped.

"Ron, we…. we really mustn't….."

"Enough working," Ron grunted into her skin.

Hermione moaned as his hands wandered, dipping below her waist so that his palms cupped the round and curved flesh of her buttocks, first one arse cheek and then the other. She squirmed with concern and delight, whimpering even as she pressed her body tighter to his, it was like an involuntary response.

"I'm…. I am done….. Oooooh….." She tilted the soft curve of her neck where Ron was nibbling at her pulse point to grant him better access. "I had to finally get off a letter to Harry; poor bloke's probably been worried sick….!"

Her breath suddenly hitched, and her thigh along with it, as Ron raised her leg to his waist, causing his lover to hook it sultrily about his torso at the back of the knee.

"Ronald!" she gasped, stunned and yet secretly pleased. "I'm…. I'm… we're not dressed for….!"

He chuckled, a low and throaty sound and it made the muscles between her legs clinch, Merlin damn him! "Kinda the point, love!"

"My…. my father!" Hermione cried, as she felt Ron's desire for her press into her pelvis and how, to her stunned shock, she was beginning to push, rock her hips back against his. "I told him we weren't sleeping together…"

"And we weren't," Ron murmured, even as he tucked his large and calloused palms under her knees and lifted her in his arms. Sweeping her off her feet with a small, pitched shriek, Hermione laced her arms about his neck as her lover carried her, bridal-style, towards her bed.

"And now? My…. my father would never forgive us if we…."

"Will he know?" Ron peered at her.

No. Not if she could help it. But that was sort of the point, wasn't it? Trust between her and her parents had broken down to the extent that it might take months or even years to build it back up. Hermione did not want to erode it any further in a moment of weakness by going for a hot shag between the sheets with her lover.

…. Even if Ron was making a very compelling case for why they should say sod all and just leap into bed.

Gazing into his impossibly blue eyes, Hermione gulped. "No penetration," she bartered.

If Ron was disappointed, he certainly hid it well, his cerulean irises, now dark with lust, expanding a little. "Really?"

Hermione chuckled. "Always the tone of surprise with you…." She allowed him to carry her grandly to the bed before setting her daintily down. Shucking off her top, she prattled. "Anyway, I've been thinking about how I might want to wait for…. for that. At least until after we're married…."

Her voice trailed off, and she glanced askance at Ron, uncertain how he might take her just casually assuming that one day they would be…. but he was looking at her with such love and ecstasy that she felt her mouth go dry.

"If that's what you want, love."

She nodded, slowly. "For now. If that changes…." And here, she smirked. "You'll be the first to know."

Ron beamed and slowly began to clamber on top of her.

"Unclip me, will you?" Hermione had Ron reach around behind her and undo her bra letting it fall away to reveal small, pert breasts. Ron let out a kind of awed whimper, and Hermione blushed down to her chest.

"Beautiful…." Ron breathed.

"You're sweet…."

"… and bloody honest!"

She smirked. "Don't swear, darling. I can still change my mind about this, you know." Though, really, she was being facetious.

"Minx!"

Wriggling under him, she managed to shimmy out of her jeans. Her panties started to follow, when Ron halted her.

"Oh, no, no! – Leave those on…." There was a twinkling glint in his eyes, and she gulped.

"But…. but they're soiled….." A beat as both looked down to see the damp stains on her panties, indicating how she was already very, very…. wet…..

Eyes met, blue on brown.

"Yeah, you're right, off with them!" Ron croaked. Lifting her knees, Hermione spread her legs for him.

Lowering his face to her slit, Ron grinned at her through hooded lashes. "I love you…." he whispered.

And to prove it, he plunged his tongue into her wet folds.

Hermione went damn near rigor mortis on the bed, arching her back and crying out with pleasure. Electric shocks seemed to be coursing along her skin, and it was all she could do to keep herself grounded by combing, weaving her fingers into Ron's auburn locks and holding fast, keeping him in place as he licked and probed at her wet and warm heat.

"R-Ron…." She choked, thrashing beneath him, lifting her hips to push them into his face. He merely grunted in response. "…. Promise me that someday, we'll have a baby?"

She felt him freeze in his probing of her cervix.

"Not right away," she prattled. "And certainly not before we're married, but…. eventually, maybe, we could… OHHHHHH!"

He was back to performing oral sex on her, and the feeling of him inside her made her nearly scream with glee. Until fairly recently, Hermione had been rather ambivalent at the thought of sex. Listening to Lavender and Parvati twitter in the girls' dormitory about positions and whatnot, she hadn't understood what all the ruddy fuss was about. Now, however….

"Oh, Ron, please, please don't stop, love! I'm…. I'm going to cum! I'm going to c-ahhhhh… AHHHHHHHHHHH….. AHHHHHHHHHH! Ah! – Ahhhhh…"

She came. Hermione finally understood what all the bloody fuss was about.

Twirling her fingers through his auburn curls, Hermione felt like her body was singing.

And then she was singing, dazedly about how she loved him, had waited for him. "Ahhhh, sweet mystery of life at last I've found you…..!" Ron groaned and feasted on her nub again, humping her thigh. "Ahhh, I know at last the secret of it all!..."

Taking pity on the bloke, Hermione tugged Ron on top of her. He still remained clothed, but they now rutted against each other in heat, rubbing against each other and imitating the act of making love even though their bodies did not join.

Ron at last was brought to orgasm, cumming in his trousers with a whimper. Smiling impishly, Hermione unzipped his jeans and freed him.

Her brown orbs widened at the sight of him, her kiss-swollen lips dropping into an astonished 'O'. She had never seen a man's penis before. Ron's stalk was angry and red, slick with his semen and only just beginning to soften, to wilt.

Puckering her lips, Hermione hesitantly reared forward and took him in her mouth, deep into her throat. Through lidded eyes, she now returned the favor, and performed oral sex on her lover quietly and experimentally, if not methodically. She licked the upper reaches of his shaft and eventually managed to tuck his balls past her bottom lip, massaging them with her tongue.

Ron was doing his level best not to thrust with too much abandon into her throat, bouncing and swaying above her. "Hermione….." His breathing had become ragged, short and labored. "I….. I love you….."

Her lips curled into a pleased grin around his foreskin.

At last with a shout, Ron seized and spilt all he had inside of her mouth, coating her esophagus with his cum. Hermione gulped it all down greedily, like a good little girl.

Hermione released him and tenderly tucked him back into his pants. Feeling her lover shift back down her, she clutched him to her breast, as Ron face-planted into the valley of her boobs so he could lather and feast along her erect nipples with his teeth. As the man attended to her tits, Hermione let her head fall back into the pillow with a sigh.

They spent hours upon hours the rest of that night making love in every way except in its purest form, pleasuring each other with their teeth and mouths until both were brought to orgasm again and again and again.