I would like to apologize for all grammatical, spelling, punctuation and editing errors that this work may have. I didn't have time to do a beta review, and I'll gladly accept any consideration and proceed to correct it.
All this haste was to be able to offer a Christmas story of this couple that they are increasingly trying to vilify, especially our favorite redhead, and that can be enjoyed, I hope, by all the followers of Romione that we are, the best of the fandom.
I usually write everything at once, but my family obligations with Christmas prevent me from dedicating all the time that this would need in a day. So I take advantage of the small periods when I can write. I estimate it will be about three chapters.
Merry Christmas, happy holidays and thank you all.
Chapter 1: The Call
If the ground hadn't been magically reinforced to prevent the damage that a hyperactive one-and-a-half-year-old baby in the midst of an explosion of exploratory eagerness could create, the hole that Hermione Weasley had created by walking in her own footsteps over and over again would surely have reached the center of the earth. Only the comfort of holding little Rose in his arms kept her from going into a state of utter panic. For the time being, the situation did not exceed the mark of moderate terror.
Somehow, the noises Rose babbled in her arms seemed to keep her fear at bay. It's true that Hermione smiled a little bit when the little girl babbled monosyllables that sounded like 'mum-mum', but her heart began an arrhythmic dance if, on the other hand what came out of her small lips sounded suspiciously similar to... 'da-da?'
Her personal hell had begun twelve hours earlier.
On one of their journeys during their courtship, they discovered a Spanish tradition that they had somehow adapted for themselves. While Christmas lunch was held at The Burrow, and it was pandemonium because of the presence of all Weasleys, Potters, Grangers… and any other group that had been invited in one way or another to the traditional family Christmas lunch, by Christmas Eve, Ron and Hermione had found sense in having an intimate dinner all to themselves. First as boyfriends, then as fiancés and finally as family when, after getting married, they received the small package of happiness that she was now holding in her arms.
They were in the lead-up to dinner, decorating the table, preparing the viands for three, and with she cutting the bread in the muggle way on the kitchen counter, when Ron had casually positioned himself behind her, pressing his body against her back, while his hands had slid over her hips and in upward caresses, they ended up with Ron's hands on her tits, while he whispered suggestively in her ear, the wonders that 'a good kneading' could have on the 'taste' of freshly baked bread.
Although Hermione adored his manifestations of affection and desire and 'the kneading' was its magic emerging, the urgency of knowing that the preparation of the celebration and attending to a little girl, limited their possibilities of letting go, she considered taking his wand and repaying a stinging spell to curb his fieriness and incidentally have a little fun seeing his face, but that option was soon discarded when Hermione's chocolate-colored eyes saw that her wand was now on the other side of the kitchen and that a rock-hard male body was "coincidentally" placed between them.
That damn strategist in him. Always one step ahead...
Delighted in the thought and the havoc it was already wreaking on her system, she took Ron's hands from her breasts and as she turned on herself to face him, they placed them again, this time on her narrow waist, while slowly waving the bread knife at her husband's sight.
"So now you give baking lessons, don't you, Darling?" She raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Well, I hope you have something 'serious' to put in this fiery oven or I'll be really disappointed with the baker", she said in a hoarse, suggestive voice, as she dropped the knife to the floor and in a subsequent motion, caught her husband's ass with both hands and pressed it against her own hips while squeezing his buttocks tightly.
Hermione saw it, felt it, and was overwhelmed all at the same time.
He saw Ron's eyes burn in the darkest cyan of the fiercest desire.
She felt his own pressure against her pelvis and his incipient hardness unleashed.
And she felt the familiar magic envelop her in the ancestral and primal desire to make her his witch in carnal way.
A magic that she returned, when without being able to resist a second longer, she wrapped her leg around her hip while her tongue swept through his mouth in a scorching kiss...
THIS IS A GENERAL CALL TO ALL ACTIVE AURORS!
SHOW UP AT YOUR ALPHA MEETING POINT!
IMMEDIATE ACTION!
IT'S NOT A DRILL!
Immersed in her lustful bliss, Hermione might well have remained oblivious to the shrill sound that was unleashed from the ring that Ron wore on his left hand, had it not been for the fact that as soon as the alarm sounded, the reflex conditioned by years of instruction and training caused Ron to break the kiss while his back tensed like a string in a bow.
When reality finally seeped into her mind, Ron was already picking up his combat robe and heading for the shoemaker at the hall to put on his regulation boots.
"Ron...?" Her voice trembled and the unspoken question remained between them for a moment that seemed eternal.
After Rose's birth, Ron asked to leave field missions. He loved to be an Auror and Hermione never reproached him or said a word of discouragement to him, even though she felt her heart ripped out of her chest every time he went on a mission with the uncertainty of whether this would not be his last image, his last smell, his last taste in the kiss before leaving. But Ron had understood that he was now not only a husband, but also a father, and so he requested a swap between his field operative duties in exchange for being director of operations planning, training and evaluating new recruits, and teaching strategy and planning. Never have the Aurors been better prepared and with greater measures to back up their actions.
Hermione always thought that she couldn't be prouder of him than she was at any point in their relationship and yet, somehow, he always got her even prouder each time.
"I must go, Hermione". The pain of leaving her was matched only by the determination of his face.
"I know," she sighed, as she struggled to keep her composure so that tears did not overflow her eyes. "But somehow I expected..."
Immediate action, she repeated in her head... Immediate action. The nightmare of any Auror's partner. The sign that something had just gone terribly wrong and that the presence of any active Auror was needed regardless of their condition. It got to the point that in some previous cases, retired Aurors had answered the call by showing up at the ministry's offices in case they could be useful in any way.
Ron pounced on her, hugging her as if in some magical way he could convey to her all the love he felt for her, all his need for her, and his desire to return to her and their daughter.
"Promise me you'll be careful, Ron," she grabbed his robe as she begged him with her chocolate eyes that made him tremble with desire and love when she looked at him.
"You're my whole life, Hermione. I swear by Merlin that I will. Take care of Rose"
"No. Her father will do." And she kissed him as desperately as she had kissed him a few moments before full of desire, in a promise of what it would be on his return.
With all the self-control he was able to after returning the kiss, Ron broke away from her by activating the emergency portkay.
And when the burst of disappearance took her husband, a moan escaped Hermione's throat as if her very life was being ripped from her as she curled up on the floor as the cry took over her whole being.
Twelve hours had passed since that moment and since then, not a word.