Ron slid a cardboard box from a shelf above his head and slowly descended the ladder. His shoulders and back ached, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open. It had been 3 months since George had insisted that he wanted to re-open the shop, 3 months since Ron had deferred his Auror training for a year to help him out, and most of his time had been spent organising the stock room and packing orders. The last month had been mental, with everyone buying early Christmas presents, and they had almost completely run out of stock. He hadn't seen George so focused, so here, since ...

Ron shook his head, pushing away the mental images. His brother, the mirror of the one cleaning and locking up out front right now, would be proud of how successful his business was. Hermione was right, that was what he needed to focus on right now.

He carried the box to the packing table, deftly slicing the sealing tape open with a now-practiced hand. This was the last box of stock from ... before. As he had with all of the other boxes of its kind, he took one item out and placed it in another box, kept under the table for this purpose. These items would never be sold, and they would never been thrown away. They were almost a tribute.

He picked up the rest of the items and carried them from the stock room into the main shop. He dropped the box onto the counter and looked around, smiling slightly as he thought about all of the satisfied customers they'd served so far. He was proud of himself. He was even more proud of George. As if thinking of him had summoned him, the brother in question came loping down the spiral stairs that led to the office and the two-bed flat above the shop floor. He too looked tired but satisfied.

'Leave those for tomorrow, Ronnie,' he said, stretching his arms over his head and sighing as his shoulders cracked. 'We'll have to have a re-jig anyway. Practically nothing left!' George ruffled his brother's already messy red hair, then turned away to collect his belongings. Ron's heart rate sped up - it was now or never.

'George?'

'Mmm?' His brother had started to shrug on his coat but stopped, looking at Ron. Ron felt his ears turning pink already.

'I was wondering ... I mean, if it's not too much to ...' Ron stuttered, not sure how to ask.

'Spit it out, kiddo, or we'll be here till next week,' George groaned, but he was smiling as he watched Ron shuffle.

'Well ... could I borrow the flat over Christmas?' His words came out in a rush, and when at first George didn't respond Ron thought he maybe hadn't heard him. But when he looked up, he saw that George's silence was for another reason. His freckled face was quite pale, his lips pressed together tightly, and Ron instantly felt guilty for asking. 'I-It's OK if not,' he stammered. 'I know it's a lot to ask and -'

'No, Ronnie, it's OK,' George muttered, then he took a deep breath and shook his head. The smile he pushed onto his face was shaky, but it reached his eyes at least. 'I mean, w- I don't use it these days, and I'll be at home over Christmas, so it only makes sense for someone to use it, right?'

Ron breathed out a sigh of relief. 'Thanks, George.'

'No problem,' George said, his smile now a bit firmer. 'But hey, just make sure you clean up everywhere after your guest leaves, yeah?' He winked at Ron, who picked up a rogue sweet from the desk, threw it at him and smiled back. 'Come on then, let's go home. You'll have to break it to Mum that you won't be home for Christmas.'

'Oh we'll be there,' Ron assured him. 'I just have something special planned around it is all.'

'I don't want to hear any more,' George grumbled, raising a hand to cover his good ear and walking away, humming loudly. Ron followed him to the fireplace at the rear of the shop, already drafting a letter to Hermione in his head.

A week later, Ron sat alone at a table for two in a small restaurant in Diagon Alley. He'd chosen the place because it looked nice, and the menu had seemed exciting, but now he felt too sick to contemplate food, and he was overthinking the decor. Would she think that the red table cloths and candles were cheesy? He was just wondering if he should have ordered her something to drink when the waiter arrived, and behind him -

''Mione,' he grinned, all of his nerves suddenly leaving him. She smiled back at him as he stood up and gathered her to him. They embraced for a while, lost in being reunited, until someone beside them cleared their throat delicately.

'Something to drink, ma'am?' the waiter asked, looking carefully disinterested in the young couple's sudden discomfort.

'Yes, sorry, a glass of white wine, please,' Hermione said, and slid into her seat opposite Ron, her cheeks slightly flushed.

'Sir?'

'Another butterbeer, thanks,' Ron mumbled, his eyes still fixed on Hermione. The waiter left, and Hermione giggled, putting her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. 'You look beautiful, 'Mione,' Ron grinned. The dark purple dress she'd chosen made her creamy skin almost sparkle, and she'd left her hair down to curl over her shoulders and back, like she knew he liked. She had a small amount of make-up on, and he could smell her shampoo and the perfume he'd bought her a couple of years ago as she shrugged her cloak from her shoulders and draped it over the back of her chair.

'Thank you, Ron,' she said, blushing again. 'And you look very handsome. This place is amazing,' she added, looking around her and taking everything in. He suddenly felt nervous again.

'Do you like it? I know it's small but I've seen it loads of times, walking around on my breaks from the shop, and I wanted to bring you somewhere special, it being our first real date and all. We don't have to stay though, we can go somewhere else if you prefer -'

'Ron!' She cut him off with a laugh and leaned forward to reach across the table and place her hand over his. He immediately turned his hand over and enclosed her small fingers in his long freckled ones, playing along her knuckles with his thumb. 'It's perfect. Relax, I'm just happy to see you. It's been a long few months.'

Ron heartily agreed with that. Although Hermione had won her argument about returning to Hogwarts, it had still taken him a while to come round to the idea. He'd tried not to sulk about it, had tried to be supportive, but it wasn't until the week before she left, as they were shopping in Diagon Alley for her back to school supplies, that it had really hit him that he wasn't going to see her all that much this year. He'd panicked when he'd realised that they would probably be spending the majority of the year apart, something they hadn't done for the last at least 3 years, and his attitude had instantly changed.

He'd followed her like a lost puppy house during that last week that she was at the Burrow. He'd traipsed after her whenever she left a room, wrapped his arms around her and pressed himself to her back whenever she was talking with Ginny, pulled her down into his lap or curled around her on the sofa whenever they were sitting. The whole family had taken to sighing loudly and yelling at him to 'give the poor girl some space!', but Hermione had tollerated the smothering attention. And after an emotional parting at Platform 9 and 3/4, she'd written to him every other day, telling him how much she missed him and that she loved him. The letters had held him over, but now seeing her again, touching her again ... his heart finally started to feel full once more.

'Your drinks.' They both jumped, realising that they had been silently staring into each others' eyes. Ron found it hard to look at their waiter as he placed their glasses and a couple of menus onto the table. 'I'll be back soon to take your orders.'

'Thanks, mate.' Ron reluctantly let go of Hermione's hand so that she could pick up her menu. Once they had both chosen and placed their orders, he took her hand again and traced patterns into the back of it as she told him about what they were learning that term at Hogwarts. The evening passed by in comfortable chatter and good food. Both admitted to having been initially nervous about going on their first official date, but depsite the numerous letters, they found they still had plenty to talk about. They became so wrapped up in their conversation that the food went almost forgotten, and Hermione nearly fell out of her chair with surprise when Ron spooned up some of his chocolate pudding and held it out for her to try. She had leaned forward, taken the spoon in her mouth so delicately and reacted with such delight at the taste that Ron decided at that moment he would always have her taste his desserts, no matter where they were or what it was.

As the evening wound to a close and they finished their drinks, Ron realised that he'd been slowly inching his chair around the table towards her and was now sat almost next to her. He felt slightly light-headed from the alcohol, but even more so from just his proximity to her. After being apart for so long, he'd almost forgotten how her smell seemed to surround him, how her eyes would dance as she told him a story, how it felt to have her fingers twined in his or resting on his arm as she listened intently to his description of the new WWW products. As she finished her wine, he reached out absent-mindedly to tuck a curl behind her ear, and she closed her eyes and nuzzled her cheek into his hand. The restaurant suddenly felt very crowded - he wanted her all to himself.

'Let's get out of here,' he mumbled, his voice slightly husky. She opened her eyes and a flash of desire lept across them as she nodded silently. Ron hurriedly paid their bill and helped Hermione with her cloak, then grabbed her hand and led her from the restaurant, a little quicker than he'd intended.

'Ron, slow down!' she giggled from behind him, and he stopped, laughing.

'Sorry, Love.'

'That's OK,' she smiled up at him, her breath curling from her mouth in a cloud in the cold evening air. They looked into each other's eyes for a few moments, and he subconsciously wound his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She blushed lightly and cleared her throat. 'How are we getting back to the Burrow?'

'We're not going to the Burrow.' Her brown eyes, which had been roaming his face, his lips, suddenly focused back on his blue ones with a little frown.

'Oh? Where are we going then?'

'To the shop,' he replied simply, releasing her gently and grabbing her hand again before setting off down the main road of Diagon Alley.

'The shop? But I don't -'

'You'll see,' he said, smiling down at her. He watched her mentally battle with her incessant need to know everything, and his grin widened when she frowned but didn't ask any more questions. She rolled her eyes and smiled back, squeezing his hand. It wasn't long before they reached the shop, and Ron let them in, carefully locking the door behind them. He took her cloak as he steered her towards the stairs at the back.

'Go on up. You want the first door at the top of the stairs.' She started to climb and he followed, immediately distracted by the sway of her hips and how the purple dress hugged her curves. He was glad to see those curves again, they reminded him that, after their months on the run, she was now able to look after herself again. The dress was knee-length, and he watched the muscles in her calves move beneath the smooth skin of her legs. He felt a sudden urge to kiss that skin, but held himself back. He wanted this night to be perfect.

As she reached the top of the stairs, Ron waved his wand behind his back. She pushed the door open and gasped as she took in the room. Dozens of floating candles, freshly lit by Ron's silent spell, hung all around the room. He'd taken time before meeting her at the restaurant to push most of the living room furniture aside and spread a rug out in front of the fireplace, in which logs now crackled warmly. On the rug he had arranged pillows and blankets in a nest-like formation. He stepped into the room beside Hermione, closing the door behind them and waiting for her reaction.

'Oh Ron, how beautiful,' she breathed, looking up at him with shining eyes.

'Very,' he replied, looking down at her, making her blush again. 'Why don't you go get comfortable and I'll get us something to drink?' She nodded, but before she moved away she stood on her tip-toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, making his own face flush and his mind swim. He watched her walk away from him, and forced himself to go in the other direction, towards the small kitchen. He returned quickly with two glasses of chilled wine in his hand, and paused at the doorway to take in the scene.

Hermione sat on the rug, legs tucked up at her side, leaning on one of her slender arms. The firelight played across her face, and from this angle he could just make out the scarred word on her wrist. An intense flash of pride tore through him as he observed the gorgeous, strong, sexy woman that he was lucky enough to finally, finally, call his. He sighed at the thought, and she turned at the sound, her features and eyes lighting up with a warm smile when she saw him standing there. He joined her on the rug, sitting up straight so that she could lean her body against his, and handed her a glass. They sat comfortably in silence for a while, staring into the fire and sipping their drinks, enjoying their closeness.

His mind began to wander as he thought more about her scar. As usual, his thoughts followed the rabbit hole and soon he found himself thinking about Fred, and the others they had lost along the way over the last few years. The familiar feeling of guilt began to crush his chest, and he found himself falling further into the memories of the horrors they'd been through.

A soft touch on his hand brought him back to the present. He looked down, pulled instantly out of the black hole in his mind, and realised that Hermione was watching him, looking worried. Worried about him.

'Sorry,' he smiled, embarrassed, then lifted his free hand to her cheek and rubbed his thumb along her cheek bone. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly, then opened her eyes again and studied him for a moment.

'Where were you just now?' she asked quietly, raising her own empty hand to hold his against her face. It was his turn to sigh as he wondered whether he should tell her, but he found that he had started to speak before he'd even made up his mind.

'I was just thinking about everything we went through, everything we lost. But it also made me realise everything we gained, too.'

'Such as?' She put her wine glass on the table next to them and turned to face him, taking his hand in both of her small, warm ones and resting them in her lap. He gulped as she ran a thumb lightly over the inside of his wrist, and had to remind himself that she'd asked him a question.

'Um, s-such as, well, this. Us. I mean, who knows where we would be if the war hadn't made us realise how much time we were wasting? Would we still be dancing around each other and bickering to hide our feelings? Who knows how much longer that would have gone on?' He shook his head, and she laughed as she followed his train of thought.

'We might never have gotten on with it,' she smiled. 'We were both too stubborn, it's just a shame we needed such a big event to push us to admit things.'

'Oh, I think I would have gotten there eventually. Don't look at me like that,' he chuckled as she raised an eyebrow sceptically at him. 'It would probably have been on the very last day of our 7th year, when it finally entered my thick skull that I may never see you again, but at that point I think I would definitely have had to do something. At that point, the risk of losing you forever would have been outweighed by the risk of never knowing what could have been.' He'd been looking down at their entwined hands as he said this, but when she didn't respond he looked up into her eyes, and was surprised to find them swimming with tears. He immediately put his glass down beside hers and cupped her face in his hand. 'What is it, Love? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you -'

'You haven't upset me,' she interrupted, her voice a little shaky. He held his breath, waiting for her to continue. 'I just ... it makes me sad that you never saw how I felt about you, or that I didn't show you in the right way. Then you wouldn't have had to worry about losing me by telling me how you felt.'

''Mione, let's face it, we were both pretty shit at sharing the emotional stuff, right?' He chuckled again at her slight frown in response to his swear, but she did nod slowly at his words. 'I mean,' he teased, grinning at her lopsidedly, 'maybe I wasn't the only one with the emotional range of a teaspoon, eh?'

Hermione laughed at this and raised a hand to slap him on the arm, but he quickly reached out and caught her, his big hand easily engulfing her slender wrist. Their eyes met, and the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted and became tense. They stayed still for about a minute, but for Ron it could have been seconds or a lifetime, gazing into those melting brown eyes that were seemingly growing darker as he watched.

'Ronald,' she exhaled, and her breath tickled the back of his hand where he still held her wrist between them. Goosebumps raised along his flesh, and his mouth was suddenly very dry.

'Yeah?' he managed to croak out.

'Kiss me,' she whispered. He licked his lips, and lowered his hand, still holding her wrist. He leaned forward slowly, so slow it was almost painful, keeping eye contact with her for as long as possible. When they were too close, her eyelids fluttered shut, and he could feel her breath panting out sharp and fast against his mouth. He gently rubbed his lips along hers, just barely touching her, wanting to savour this moment of tension and to tease her more. He lost his control when she whispered his name.

'Ron, please -' He pressed his lips firmly to hers, and they both moaned in gratification as the tension broke into something new, something just as highly charged but much more satisfying. Her hands clutched at his shirt and his found her waist. He pulled her closer to him with such force that she ended up straddling his lap as their kiss deepened. Her new position inadvertently pressed her core against his growing erection, and they both gasped at the intimate contact.

One of his hands left her hip and grazed up her back to tangle in the curls at the back of her head, and he ran his tongue against her lower lip, desperate for more of her. She opened her mouth willingly, and when he pushed his tongue against hers she sucked on it. He let out a low, rumbling growl as the sensation caused him to feel light-headed and heightened his lust and need for her immediately. He flipped her onto her back, using his forearm to guide her gently to the floor, his other arm steadying himself so that he wouldn't crush her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and her dress rode up around her hips, revealing her thighs and a pair of lacy yet modest lilac panties. Ron closed his eyes in an attempt to control himself, but seconds later his hips snapped forward involuntarily when Hermione's nose ran up the side of his neck. Hermione groaned under him, and he immediately tried to pull away.

'Did I hurt you? I'm sorry -'

'No! No, you didn't hurt me, it's just ...' She trailed off, her cheeks colouring once again.

'What is it, 'Mione?'

'It's ... It's the smell.' He instantly began to pull away, horrified. He didn't get far - her hands were wrapped tightly around the back of his neck.

'What smell?' he asked desperately, panic thick in his voice.

'The smell of this bit of skin,' she murmured, her eyes now fixed on the pulse point of his neck, the fingertips of one hand lightly tickling the area. 'It's intoxicating. It ... itsthethirdscentinmyamortentia.' The last part was slightly garbled as she rushed through it, and made harder to understand as her hands flew to her face so that she could hide behind them. Ron's large, freckled fingers wrapped round Hermione's wrists and he gently pulled her hands away, taking in her scarlet cheeks and tightly shut eyes.

'Look at me, 'Mione.' She slowly obeyed, and he saw the worry there. He stroked her cheek gently to reassure her. 'Tell me again?'

'I said ... I said it's the third scent in my amortentia. I'm sorry, I know that's probably really creepy -' She was cut off by Ron's lips crushing against hers. His hand found her hip again and he pulled her tight against him, and she broke their kiss as her head fell back, gasping at the sensation of him pressing hard against her centre. Her eyes were slightly glazed as she returned her gaze to his.

''Mione, that's so fucking hot,' he growled, distracted by the throbbing in his groin. 'Do you want to know what I smell in mine?' Her eyes suddenly focused on him again, intrigued, and she nodded. 'Well, I smell Quidditch leathers' - he kissed her cheek - 'and fresh grass' - he kissed her temple - 'and I smell' - he leaned forward and took a deep breath in through his nose - 'your hair.'

'M-my hair?'

'Fuck, 'Mione, your hair smells so good,' he rumbled, causing her to blush all over again. 'It smells like vanilla and summer and ... and just you.' Her fingers wound into the hair at the back of his neck and she tugged him down to her, catching his lower lip between hers. She flicked her tongue across it before gently biting it, pulling another growl from deep in his chest. He pulled his face away and moved down to her neck. He ran the tip of his tongue up her throat, and was rewarded with a whine from Hermione as her hips rose, causing her to grind against him through his jeans and drawing a moan from both of them.

'Ron,' she said breathlessly. He grunted into her neck to let her know he was listening. 'I know this isn't the first Christmas we've spent together but, well, so far it's my favourite.' He looked down at her, noticing the unspilt tears swimming in her eyes.

'Oh, we'll have many more, Love,' he said, his hand moving to brush her curls back from her face as he smiled down at her. 'And each one will be better than the last. I promise.' She grabbed his shirt front and pulled him down again, crushing her lips to his passionately. He melted into her kiss, enjoying the sensation of her silky lips sliding against his, their tongues twining and battling. He became aware that Hermione was tugging insistently at his shirt, and he broke their kiss to look down at what she was doing. Her small fingers were fumbling with his buttons, and finally with a frustrated sigh she tugged hard at the material.

'Help,' she muttered, and she sounded so pouty at being defeated that he couldn't help but chuckle and kiss the tip of her nose before sitting back.

'You're so cute when you're cross at losing to inanimate objects,' he grinned as he quickly unfastened the buttons of his shirt. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and fixed him with a glare, which soon softened when Ron's long fingers pulled his shirt free and he threw it across the room. She reached up and traced her fingertips up his torso, and he shivered as heat flooded him from every point of contact. Her fingers hooked around his neck and she dragged him down, their lips crashing together.

They moved together, their breaths becoming laboured and sharp as they rocked against each other. It didn't take long for their clothes to be completely discarded, and they gasped into each others' mouths as bare skin met again for the first time in such a long time. His hand snaked between them, skating across her stomach, aiming between her legs, but she grabbed his wrist and locked eyes with him.

'Ron,' she breathed. 'I need you, now. I'm ready.'

'Are you sure?' he asked, his voice shaking as he held himself back.

'It's been three months without you,' she said, one eyebrow quirking up and a slight smirk on her lips. 'And I've been stuck in that castle going nuts without you. My fingers will never feel as good as you do inside me.'

'Fuck, woman,' he groaned, as his hips bucked forwards reflexively. 'You can't be saying things like that and expect me to last long!' Her sensual laugh made goosebumps stand up on his skin, but he was soon brought back to the task at hand as her small fingers wrapped around his throbbing length and directed him towards her entrance.

'Please,' she murmered against his shoulder, and he found he couldn't help himself. He just wanted to give her anything, everything that she asked him for. So he lined himself up, and pushed forward slowly.

'Fuck ... so tight ... ' She was warm and wet and welcoming, and Gods he had missed being burried deep inside her. He could feel her stretching around him and went as slow as his lust would let him, allowing her to adjust to him again after so long apart. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, urging him to move, and he watched her cheeks flush and her eyes glaze as he drew back and thrust forwards again. ''Mione, fuck, you're amazing, so beautiful ... '

'More, Ron, please!' she whimpered, her head rolling back on the carpet below her.

'Anything you want, Love.' He licked and nipped at her exposed neck, wanting to take care of her but feeling a primal need to mark her, to have her sport evidence that she was his, that only he could have her this way. She whimpered at the sensation, which made him latch on with more urgency. The fire in his lower abdomen was burning through him, and he could feel his release starting to build and willed himself to hold off, wanting to enjoy her for as long as possible.

'Oh Ron, I'm so close ...' Her hands gripped his shoulders and she bit her lower lip hard. Ron reached between them again and was able to slide his thumb against her this time, moving until her hips bucked when he nudged against her clit. Her eyes flew open and she stared into his as he circled the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts.

Suddenly Hermione's head fell back once more and she let out a breathy moan that sounded something like his name, her back raised off the floor. Ron gasped as she tightened around him, clenching and unclenching rapidly. The feeling was amazing, and it caused him to stop moving completely. He watched her under him. Her chest was flushed, and her eyes had rolled back in her head. She seemed to hold her breath at its peak, then started panting as she slowly came down, relaxing back into the rug, her hair spreading under her head like a curly halo, a satisfied smile on her lips.

They'd had sex many times before this occasion and they had done plenty of other things around that, and he'd made her cum oh, so many times. But this was the first time that he could remember being consciously aware of how it felt to have her cum around his cock. Usually he made her cum by burying his head between her legs and using the combined efforts of his tongue and fingers, or when he was inside her he was blinded by his own release as they came together. But now he realised that watching and feeling her come undone around him while he wasn't completely distracted was, well, bliss. He felt frozen by what he had just experienced, and all he could do was stare down at her. He was so in awe that Hermione noticed that he was staring, and her smile disappeared as she quickly looked away.

'Sorry,' she mumbled. He immediately grasped her chin and turned her head back towards him, forcing her to look into his eyes.

'Sorry? For what?! Fuck, 'Mione, that was ... that was incredible! And-and so fucking hot and sexy and ... and ... oh Gods, I love you. I still can't believe you're finally mine.' She smiled again, but this time for seemingly different reasons as she gazed coyly up at him. 'Fuck, I want you so badly ... I just wish I could show you how good it felt to feel you cum like that.'

'Then show me,' she stated.

Some possessive part of his brain suddenly took over. He started to move again, but his movements were fast and hard, harder than they'd ever been yet. She gasped and he looked down to see if he was hurting her, but her eyes were suddenly dark again, her arms threaded around his neck and she wrapped her legs around his waist, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts and deepen the angle as he entered her. The new sensation made him move harder and faster, and as his head dropped to her neck he growled, 'You're MINE.'

'Oh, Ron,' she whispered. 'Say that again.'

'Mine. All mine. Only mine. No-one else will ever get to see you like I do, or touch you like I do, or make you feel like I do. You're mine, 'Mione.' He panted all of this into her ear, and she shuddered against him, tightening around him as she moaned at his words.

'Yes, Ron, I'm all yours. I always was, and I always will be. Oh, Ron, I'm close again!'

'I know, Love, me too. Oh fuck, 'Mione, you feel so good.' He was struggling to talk, and he was still worried he was hurting her, but at this point he couldn't slow down, so he kept slamming into her as she whimpered under him and grabbed handfuls of his hair. He groaned at the feeling of her tugging at him, and leaned back to look into her eyes. 'Cum for me, 'Mione,' he growled. 'Please, I want to feel you cum for me again.'

His words seemed to tip her over the edge. Her head fell back, eyes closed, and she screamed his name. She tightened almost painfully around him as her back arched, pushing her whole body against his. It was too much for Ron, and he followed her, thrusting erratically as he spilled streams of hot, thick cum inside her. He continued to thrust as she rode out her orgasm, and they finally collapsed together, panting, sweaty and spent, but satisfied. He tried to roll off her but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, fingers still tangled in his hair, so he lowered himself onto her, carefully distributing his weight so as not to crush her. They lay together like this for some time, until Ron started to ache.

''Mione ... got to move, Love,' he breathed, kissing her cheek softly. She loosened her grip with a small sigh, and as he rolled away he pulled out of her slowly, both of them groaning at the feeling of loss. Once he had recovered somewhat, Ron started to realise that he had been quite inconsiderate in taking her as he had, and he immediately rolled towards her with an apology on his tongue. But she was already on her side, looking at him, and she spoke first.

'Don't you dare try and take that back, Ronald.' She laughed as his eyebrows shot up, and she raised a hand to smooth the lines of his forehead. He caught her fingers in his and pressed her palm against his lips, waiting for her to speak again. 'That was ... it was incredible. You've got a very dirty mouth but I - well, I think I quite like it. And I think I could feel how it must have felt for you to-to feel me ... you know.' She blushed and stopped, unable to finish. He grinned at her sudden shyness, and reached out to scoop her close to his body. Well, if she liked it when he talked dirty, perhaps he could start saying some of the things he'd always imagined saying, when he'd fantasised about her all those times in his Hogwarts dorm room or his bedroom at the Burrow.

'You mean when I make you cum?' he asked, his voice low and husky. She shivered and her eyes fluttered closed briefly, and when they opened again he saw that flash of lust cross them. 'Is that what you meant, 'Mione? Do you enjoy it when I make you cum when I'm inside you?'

'Yes,' she whispered, her gaze fixed on his lips. He grinned again, feeling slightly aroused from just knowing that his words alone could turn her on.

'Good, because I mean to keep on making you cum. And I meant what I said, by the way,' he added, tilting her head back with his fingertips under her jaw so that she looked into his eyes. 'No-one else will ever get to know how it feels to touch you, to turn you on, to make you cum. You're mine.' Hermione's back arched again at this last word, her hard nipples pressing into his chest as she bit down on her lip and sighed. He nuzzled into her neck, kissing and licking the soft flesh.

'Say it again,' she breathed.

'Mine,' he growled against her, and she moaned, her fingers in his hair once more. 'And you always will be.'