a/n: This chapter is NSFW and rated M :) Merry Christmas to all of you and a Happy New Year!

Chapter 40: Owned

It was a barmy idea. Her first instinct was to decline, but she held back only because of how genuinely happy Ron looked as he proposed it.

The parchment was spread open on the table; detailed plans with routes and places to stay and explore written in his messy but familiar handwriting. He had spent enough time on it and despite her frustrations with his 'let's-take-this-torturously-slow' attitude, she couldn't help giving in just a smidge.

"A motorbike ride through Scotland?" she asked again, watching him for any signs of second thought. "No magical transport?"

"None," he replied with that small lopsided grin of his, and she wanted to kick him in the shins for being so adorable. She hugged the cushion closer to her chest. Dressed in a pair of comfortable flannel pajamas, sitting cosily in the large armchair that had clearly been placed in the room to accommodate two people but for other activities, she watched him looking at her expectantly. Ron was dressed in an oversized navy-blue t-shirt and light grey track pants, looking much like his sixteen-year-old version. It felt like a study session from their Hogwarts days and clearly not their wedding night. She was supposed to be upset and annoyed with him for pushing her away, she reminded herself sternly. He was not playing it fair. He was just riling her up. But as always, he was making it incredibly hard for her to say 'no'.

…

Barely an hour ago, he had acted the perfect gentleman and walked away to the balcony allowing her the privacy to change out of her wedding dress - but only after having helped her enough with the process to get her hormones and emotions all messed up. Locked behind the bathroom door she had dropped the heavy dress, and once it had pooled down at her feet, a vivid image of Ron had materialised.

The visionRon was kinder. He knelt down at her feet and slowly peeled her knickers down. Hermione had to bite the back of her hand to cut down on the sounds she was making when he guided her free hand between her legs, caressing the soft flesh, dipping oh so teasingly and fleetingly at her entrance. She closed her eyes, allowing the visions behind her eyes to guide her as she touched herself, giving in finally.

Ron fingers were spreading her lips apart slowly and she writhed in pleasure, her back resting against the cold tiled walls, body chasing the sensations it had been craving so desperately, sensations she had been denying. The tip of his finger grazed her clit, circling it in the most tender of touches and she was still reeling under its effect when his mouth replaced his fingers. His lips were soft, but his beard scratched her sensitive skin - it was an odd mix of pleasure and pain. Her body shuddered violently as his tongue swiped over her clit, and then sucked on it. Softly first and then hard before finding its way to her entrance. She cried out his name quietly.

And then Ron shoved his tongue inside her and she gasped, her body jolted up to chase the pleasure. He pulled out and before she could complain, his tongue was inside her again and again and again.

VisionRon was merciless in the best ways possible. His arms held her thighs apart and in place, while she writhed under his ministrations. His fingers dug into her thighs, leaving nail marks on her skin. She cried out in pleasure, finally achieving the release that she had been craving, and shattered into bits under his care. He continued until she couldn't stay standing anymore and slid down.

She continued to finger herself as visions blurred away to be replaced by reality, sobbing quietly, in relief or frustration she didn't know. Perhaps both.

…

"I haven't been on a road-trip in ages," she told him. "The last time I did something like that was-"

"-during the Hunt," he finished for her and Hermione did not fail to notice the haunting traces of the memories in his eyes.
"And you want to do that again?" she asked. With Ron she did not have to spell it out; he knew what she was thinking. His eyes followed her hands that were clutching on to the cushion hard as she tried to push away the memories of him leaving - during the hunt and after.

"I want us to have better memories of travelling together," he replied as he continued to look at her hands. "Something we can look back on fondly."

"Will it be safe?" she asked.

"I don't see why not," he replied. "Have a guy in my team who went with his Muggle cousin. It's what Muggles do all the time apparently," he chuckled. "We should be okay, innit? Imagine the train ride to Hogwarts but at our own pace. We can stop wherever you want. Watch the sunrise, walk in the meadows, visit the little settlements, the castles and lochs. There are places to rest and stay the night." He looked at her eagerly and she knew he was looking forward to it a lot.

It was obvious he had put in a considerable amount of thought and research into it. It sounded good too; for years now, she had been cloistered in the city, it would certainly be a fresh change. But could she survive the wilderness without remembering the horrors it had held for them years ago? Would he?

"Will we be okay?" she asked, again unable to find words that could fit in all that she was worried about.

This time he reached out to take her left hand in his and ran his finger over her wedding ring. His own glinted in the faint light, "We will," he promised.

—-

They had Flooed to a little wizarding guest house at Skelmorlie in the early morning hours, their clothes and other essentials packed in a small backpack that had an Extendable charm. Ron had everything planned out. They collected the motorbike from Skelmorlie and took a ferry to Bute. The familiar old anxiety of a short notice and a practically un-planned (by her) trip had slowly ebbed away to be replaced by excitement and curiosity.

The village at Bute reminded her of Hogsmead and as they took a leisurely walk around it, visiting the small family-run shops and cafes, she began to relax. At some point she placed her hand in his and Ron's long fingers interlaced, holding her tightly. They fell back to their normal bickering and teasing which she enjoyed and had sorely missed and finally, Hermione thought she had figured out why Ron must have wanted this trip so much - perhaps if he hadn't left, they would have done this many times over in the last seven years. Maybe he wanted to make up for all the time they had lost.

They reached Dunoon by lunchtime and spent a considerable part of the day looking around the various tourist spots the place had to offer. Some they covered on foot after having parked their vehicle outside the cafes, and others they drove down to.

Ron rather enjoyed the walks; there was something deeply satisfying in reaching the destination after a lazy stroll, with her of course. By the time they were ready to leave, having covered all the places the town had to offer including the Benmore Botanic Garden, the Castle House Museum and Castle Towards, the sun had almost completed half of its daily journey; thanks to Hermione spending enormous amounts of time at each place.

Teenaged Ron would have found it exhausting to loiter around behind her while she caught up with the local guides. But he had lived a lifetime to know how precious these mundane moments were. He had wasted enormous amounts of time doing everything except simply living each moment cherishing her presence, watching her being herself. Hermione had spent a lifetime trying to be perfect, working day in and out - she deserved this time, this peace. They had both gone through hell to earn it. He followed her obediently, smiling, teasing and most importantly, watching her, thanking his stars over and over again.

—-
The late afternoon sun was still bright and warm, the wind fresh and crisp, and the road gorgeous, snaking its way through trees, hills, meadows and fields. The blue sky and fluffy white clouds reflected in the large lakes, the quiet broken by the sound of their motorbike and occasional vehicles that passed them.

They had had lunch in a small family run cafe, and were on their way to God knows where, and for once she wasn't bothered. It was all too nice. Letting out a satisfied sigh, Hermione pressed her face on Ron's back as her arms wrapped around his waist. She felt more than heard his little sigh.

"Are you cold?" he asked, turning a smidge to the side and she pressed closer to him.

"A little," she replied, meeting his eyes through the rearview mirror.
"Wanna grab a jacket?" he asked again, slowing down slightly.

"Maybe later. It's not too bad," she replied, "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked blissfully, indicating the lake ahead.

"Should we stop and stay here for a while?"

"Why not?"

He brought the bike to a halt on the side and Hermione pulled out a blanket and spread it on the ground.

Lying down, watching the clouds float by, they relished the view like they never had the scope to do before.

"I don't remember doing this after fourth year at school," she mused, feeling utterly satisfied and at peace. It was nice to be able to breathe without having to worry about work or all the responsibilities of saving the wizarding world for a change.
"Hmm, I know," he muttered softly.

How lucky were people who had grown up with this peace!

Despite their reputation as rulebreakers, the Trio did not have a carefree childhood. Far from it. They had been through more shite in seven years than what many went through in a lifetime. Hermione found and placed her small, warm hands in his and scooted to rest her head on his shoulder. She had promised herself not to initiate closeness, upset as she was with him, but it was a hard promise to hold on to from the beginning.
His heart thumped in his chest and the sound quietened all her anxieties and fears. Her heart felt full in a blissful sort of way.

"Let's go, shall we?" he asked, although his tone indicated he very much wanted to stay put. "At this rate, this four-day trip will last a week at the very least," he added with a grin.

"Won't mind." she replied in a dreamy tone.

"I'm not complaining either. Had planned to reach Cairndow before sundown though. We are staying there tonight."

"Just a little longer?" she pleaded, and she could see his resolve melt in his eyes. Her heart cheered at realising she still had some power over him. He chuckled, sighed contently. and exhaled blissfully, pulling her just a bit closer by the arm.

…

The wind had a slight chill to it and in a while, he would ensure, Hermione grabbed a jacket. The sky was a clear blue and he watched the clouds, vaguely aware of the quiet rustling of leaves, and occasional chirping of birds. Ron had forgotten how pretty the clear sky looked. He was reminded of the lazy afternoons back when they were at school. It seemed like a lifetime ago. When was the last time he had felt peace? He couldn't remember. For seven years he had lived amongst nature, but it was nothing short of a prison.

And then it happened. Clouds rushed in to cover the sky, and he was transported back in time, the quiet became eerie instead of peaceful. His memories of wilderness that were tainted with the colours of blood and gore, came to the fore forcefully and struggling to breathe, he clasped her hand a little too tightly. Hermione, perhaps sensing the change in his breathing, turned around and placed the palm of her free hand on his chest.

"Ron?" she called, pushing herself on her arms. Her voice penetrated through the darkness and although it took an effort, he could focus on the present again. The sun appeared from behind the clouds. Slowly the memories faded away, and the sky was clear again.

"Need a bite?" she asked, perhaps not knowing what else to say, concern marring her features, not letting go of his hand. He turned to ensure he could watch her, focus on her features. He could see that she was worried but didn't know how to voice it. They couldn't keep doing this, she needed to know the missing parts of his life. Hermione did not fare well without knowing and Ron was sure this was driving her crazy, but more importantly, he would not recover till he confessed it all to her. He couldn't let his past taint his present, he couldn't let his memories ruin the world he was building with her.

"I'm okay now," he told her, breathing deeply through his nose, holding her hand over his heart.
"Let's go then," she suggested.

They picked themselves up and the blanket was tucked back. Once Hermione had grabbed a jacket they resumed their journey.

…..

The wind had turned chilly, and they were still a fair few kilometers from Cairndow when the first few drops began to rain down on them. "Hold on tight," he told her, "Let's get to town before the rain picks up any further," he told her. But nature had other plans; the wind and rain picked up speed in no time.

"Fuck, don't think we'll make it. We need to find shelter," he yelled to be heard over the wind, worried that they'd be drenched, angry that he had missed the weather alert somehow.

"We can barely see anything!" she replied, "Let's stop and get the tent up!"

Ron slowed down and came to a stop under a massive oak tree. The visibility was bad. "We need to work fast. Not what I planned, but if the rain doesn't stop anytime soon, we'll stay the night," he suggested, hurriedly removing his jacket and placing it over Hermione; it covered her like a cloak. The overcast sky and the setting sun had left little light for them to work with.

Finding a patch of comparatively dry ground under a cluster of trees, they set to work setting up the tent in a jiffy. But it was pouring crazy and by the time they were done, Ron was soaked to the bone. Hermione, covered under his huge jacket, was marginally better. Ron asked her to rush inside and went back to the road and hauled the bike to park it behind the tent. It was not the easiest of tasks, the road had turned muddy, and the rain did not help with the visibility.

Exhausted, jeans soaked with mud and grime, he made to enter the tent, eager to change into dry clothes, when he found Hermione standing in front of the tent flap, wand out, casting spell after spell.

"Fuck,"

"Protego Totalum…Salvio Hexia… Cave Inimicum..."

The jacket was still covering her but there was something rather unhealthy on her features. His heart broke at the sight. Seven years and she was still carrying the trauma - she hadn't healed, and he hadn't made it any easier for her, had he? Reaching her quickly, he placed his hands carefully at her shoulders and called. "Hermione?"

At his voice, she turned, and he did not miss the look in her eyes that reminded him of their year on the run. He could see the young, malnourished girl again, warding off their hiding place from the hoard of Death Eaters, worried that they would be captured. He continued to hold her, rubbing his arms over hers over and over, hating himself for not planning better. He should have focused on reaching the town on time, he berated himself sternly.

"Ron…" she called, fearfully.

"Go inside, I'll do this," he told her, but she did not move. "It's okay," he assured, grabbing her wand arm and pulling it down, "I'll put up some Auror-level spells, we'll be okay," he promised.

"Auror-level," she repeated softly, and her heavy breathing eased after many heartbeats. "Yes, you are an Auror now," she announced, more to herself than to him.

"Yes, and we are okay. It's just bad weather, nothing else." he assured, "Go in and dry yourself. I'll be there in a bit."

"Right," she exhaled but, on her way, turned around a few times to ensure he was doing his job before disappearing behind the tent flap.

Ron, now drenched and dripping, cursed himself again for triggering her nightmares. And then he ensured to put up enough protections to hide them so well that even Harry wouldn't be able to find them.

….

He had barely entered and closed the flap behind him when she crashed onto his chest. He did not let himself overthink and wrapped his arms around her, picking her up bridal style and carrying her down the hall.

The tent was new and fairly big and well lit. It was, however, not soundproof. The heavy pattering of rain along with the otherwise lonely surrounding was reminiscent of the times during their hunt and his days during the mission. With Hermione in his arms, Ron knew he could not let his nightmares take over.

He brought her to the long table that sat at one end of the dining room and sat her down. When he rid her of his oversized jacket, he was glad to notice that she was still not as soaked as he was. Casting a warming spell over her and then himself, he gently placed his hand at her chin and lifted her face, running the pad of his thumb over her cheek.

"I'm sorry I didn't plan this better," he told her, brushing off her wet locks from her face with his other hand.

Her fingers bunched the fabric over his chest, and she was still breathing in gasps. The tremors had not abated. "You aren't leaving me, are you?" she asked, shivering slightly, her voice shaking with tears. She was remembering the night he had left them… How could he have broken this girl so much?

"I'm not going anywhere, Hermione. I promise, I won't," he managed, exhaled and brushed her locks out of her face. No matter what his reasons, the truth was that he had abandoned her twice. He'd die before he did it again, he promised himself.

"They won't find us here, will they?" she asked, pulling him out of his musings, looking around before shaking her head.

"There's no one here, love," he called softly. "No snatchers, no Death Eaters. They're all gone; we won the war. It's just us, you and me. We are taking a road trip, remember?"

She looked around at his words but did not let go of him. Slowly her breathing eased, and she pulled him closer to rest her head against his chest. "It has been seven years, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it has," he replied. "We are all safe."

Hermione remained clinging on to him for a while and although Ron was drenched and cold, he did not rush her, only ensuring to cast warming spells on themselves.

"You okay?" he asked once she let go.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," she replied. "I just -"

He pulled her into an embrace. "It was my fault, I should've planned better."

"No, Ron, I'm glad we did this," she replied softly. "I was perhaps holding this fear inside me all this time. It was high time I let go."

"Are you okay though?" he asked again.

"I will be," she promised with a small smile.

Ron exhaled loudly, ran his fingers through his hair and realised he was still wet. He sniffed a little and watched her fidgeting with her own jacket. Wet as it was, she struggled to get it off. "You are crazy amazing; you know that right?" he chuckled and she coloured a little at his words. Ron couldn't take his eyes off her. She ran her fingers through her hair and the wedding ring glinted in the light.

Finally managing to get rid of the jacket, she threw it on the side. When she pulled out the elastic holding her hair and shook her head, beads of water spraying around, he knew he had to get away.

But he couldn't.

Why was he still standing so close to her? He could practically see himself reflected in those brown pools. How many nights had he dreamt of her? How many years had he pinned away wondering if she would ever walk into his arms again, let him live a little just by being around. How many times had he fought death just to stay alive a little longer and tell her how much he loved her?

By the time he realised what he was doing, his lips had already found hers. It was the softest of kisses - just a touch and nothing more, but then her arms were around his neck, and he had wrapped her in his embrace, her figure still small and fitting perfectly into him. His heart seemed to come alive at her touch. Eyes closed but senses alert, he heard her sniff a little, but the kiss remained tender, slow grazing of lip over lip, nothing more, nothing less. Her fragrance surrounded him, the warmth of her body reaching his soul.

Realising that he would have to move away soon, or he would lose all sense of his control, he broke the kiss and opened his eyes. Unshed tears glistened at the corner of her closed eyes, and he swiped them off with his thumb and pressed his lips to her temple.

This was enough, he told himself, although he craved oh so much more.

"Why don't you change, and I'll get us some tea," he suggested softly, taking a step back at last. The warmth of the tent made it feel like a home, and Hermione, drenched and wet and blushing, was doing crazy things to his heart.

She grabbed his hand before he could leave though. A small tug and he was in front of her again. When she looked up and met his eyes, he knew what she was thinking.

Fuck…

Ron, drawn irresistibly to her as always, inched closer to her face and managed to hold himself back at the very last minute, holding to the threadbare edges of control and sanity.

He averted his gaze because he knew he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off her lips, he knew he was craving to touch, be touched. His thoughts were taking a dangerous turn. It was one fucking day of being married - had he not told her the very previous night that they needed more time?

"Pushing me away again, aren't you?" she asked quietly, and he met her gaze.

"Hermione… I-"

"I am such a fool," she laughed sadly, "This is not real, is it."

"Why would you say that?" he asked, incredulously. She couldn't be serious! He cupped her face and tried to make her meet his eyes, but she let out a small sound of frustration and averted his gaze.

"You are just doing this as a favour still, aren't you, Ron?" she continued. "It's just borne out of guilt or whatever…"

He dropped his hands and stared at her, "Are you fucking crazy?!" he gasped finally. "Can't you see… can't you see…" See the effect she was having on him?!

"How can I see anything if you are always so guarded?" she snapped back, teary and angry. "You're always in control - I don't even recognize this version of you!"

The words hurt and he was shaken out of the thousand thoughts running through his head.

"You hate this version of me, don't you?" he asked quietly, struggling to hold back the self-doubt.

"Ofcourse , I don't!" she retorted angrily, meeting his eyes at last. He could see she was frustrated and upset. "But you're so hard to read nowadays!" she added, "I- I just wish to understand if - if you still love me, if you still…"

"Want you?" he finished for her. He knew they were walking a thin line, and his control was snapping with every word, with every gesture and every breath.

"Yes,"

Fuck... Couldn't she see how he was driving himself crazy holding himself back?

"I want you so much it scares me," he admitted softly. "But I can't overstep my boundaries, Hermione. Not until, you are sure. You-you don't realise how hard it was for me to stop myself from…"

"-from?" she asked, and he looked pleadingly at her. Don't make me say it; his thoughts couldn't be voiced aloud for how would they go back once he said what he was thinking? But she was waiting.

"-stop yourself from what?" she asked again.

"Ripping the wedding dress off of you," he whispered.

She coloured sharply at his words. "And?" she asked.

His breath was coming out in gasps. "Don't do this to me," he added sternly, but when had Hermione ever backed down from a challenge?

"Why did you not?"

Fuck… Fuck… Fuck….

"How do I believe you? You pushed me away," she added. "What did you actually want?" she probed, and he knew she was tormenting him intentionally.

How could he tell her that he had been imagining undressing her? How could he tell her that he had wondered about the colour of her bra, if she wore any till he had glimpsed her bare nipples? How could he tell her that he wanted to touch them so bad, taste them. How could he tell her he had wondered if her knickers were white and lacy and how it would feel to peel them off and bury his face between her legs? How could he tell her that without the guilt that held him back, he would have made love to her all night long.

She was still talking. "It's not fair, I feel I am the only one who… feels things… and that's not fair," she retorted and for a fleeting moment Ron wondered if she meant what he thought she meant.
This was a bad idea, what was he thinking would come out of a road trip? Their attraction had been crazy since their teens. She was too close, and her fragrance always did insane things to his heart.

"Just because I don't say anything, doesn't mean I don't want this - you," he managed, sounding rather hoarse. "Hermione, you of all people should know I- I-"

"You what, Ron? See? You don't even finish your sentences! I just don't know!" she cried. "I tell myself I know you, but the fact is I am oblivious about a huge chunk of your life! I don't know what you want anymore. The Ron I knew wore his heart on his sleeves - he, he couldn't keep his hands off me," she added, unable to hide the blush but she wasn't done. "The Ron I knew wasn't masked!"

"I've always wanted to tell you; I have tried so many times!"

"Yes, you have! But you've also made it sound as if it's going to break everything we have now!"

"That's not a lie! You should've heard me out before tying your life with me!"

"That's what you don't get, you idiot! Why can't you see it yet? We've been entangled ever since I landed in the Wizarding world. I have belonged to you since the time I belonged in this magical world!"

"Fuck, Hermione, and am I not yours? I am, always was. You've got to know that!"

"Then why do you keep pushing me away? I need to know you want this too, Ron. It's not just me who -"

"-Who?"

"How is this fair?" she cribbed, wiping off angry tears, grabbing his button down at the collar and shaking him as much as she could. "You broke up with me, you were okay with me marrying Draco, I had to come and ask you to marry me, you agreed as a favour and now, once again, you make me plead and push me away everytime I try making this relationship normal!" She sniffed and let go. "I shouldn't have to - have to imagine you doing things to me behind closed doors when you are right there," her voice shook.

Ron felt like he had been hit with a bludger to his head.

She couldn't possibly mean…

"Do you understand how lonely and unwanted it makes me feel?" she went on, "And not like I didn't try, I reached out, didn't I? It's not fair, not fair at all! Why should I have to be the one approaching you every time while you push me away?"

"I do not push you away," he countered, "I - I just can't… I shouldn't touch you unless you are sure you want me and not …"

"Ronald Weasley you better shut up and not finish that sentence! And you better prove it."

"Prove what?" he asked, still trying to come to terms with the fact that Hermione had imagined him while pleasuring herself. His brain felt like a mush. A small part of him wanted to know what she had imagined.

Fuck…

Without warning though, Hermione jumped off the table, grabbed her bag and went inside the washroom. She emerged only minutes later, wearing a dress. Her damp locks swayed behind her.

"Prove that you want this too," she challenged. "I can't wear the wedding gown again, but this is as close as I can get to it."

He gaped at her for a while and then scratched the back of his neck and chuckled. "You want me to literally rip a dress off you?" he grinned. Gosh he had missed her.

"Put that mouth to better use, Ron, because right now, you are this close to getting hexed."

He smiled, unaware how that lopsided grin affected her heart, picked her up and sat her down on the table again.

…

He picked her up as if she weighed nothing. She was back on the table which added good height for her to reach him.

Now that her emotions had successfully caused her to blurt out every logical and illogical thought she had been holding back, she had settled enough to see the result of it on his face, giving rise to funny jitters in her stomach. His large hands held her waist easily and with him so close, she could see the subtle change in his eyes. She knew that look.

"Promise me you'll stop me if you are not comfortable?" he asked again, his palms flat on the table on either side of her, face close but still far enough for her to move away if she wished.

She nodded.

"Tell me you want this," he asked again. "Tell me you want me…" he added. "This is not a repayment of any sort, is it?"

She grabbed his left arm and pressed a kiss on his palm and placed it on her face and heard a sharp intake of breath. "I want this, Ron, want you - only you..." she admitted, and he inhaled sharply. Hermione bit her lip to hide her jittery nerves. Her heart was thundering madly in her chest. Hormones must have driven her insane, she thought - she had actually invited him to rip her dress off her… It was all his doing though, if he hadn't riled her up this way…

His left hand went up to her hair, cupping her face, long fingers entangling in her hair and nudging her to meet his eyes. She could feel his breath.

"You want me to prove to you I want this?" he whispered, tracing her lips with his thumb.

She gulped. "Yes," she managed.

"Will you let me show you how much I've missed you?" he asked, "Will you be okay with me leading?"

"Yes," she replied again.

"And stop me if you are not comfortable?"

"Yes, Ron."

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, "You'll be the death of me, you know that right?" he added softly and placed a kiss on her temple before placing his lips on hers.

This time it wasn't the soft, tender kiss as before. With the fingers of his left hand tangled in her hair and the right palm pressed at her waist, he pulled her close, fitting in between her legs, and covered her lips with his, and swiped his tongue over hers. She sighed and his tongue found his way in.

His taste was familiar, and the kiss spoke of longing and want and desperation.

She responded by pulling him closer. He was still slightly wet from the rain despite the drying spells, and she tugged on his button down. He unbuttoned the top few buttons with one hand without breaking the kiss and then moved away a little just to grab it behind his collar and pull it off. Hermione, who was expecting to see bare skin, groaned on finding that he was actually wearing a thin black round-neck tee underneath. He chuckled and she tugged on it at his waist impatiently. But before she could pull it off, he grabbed both her hands in his and held them behind her.

"Not your turn yet," he told her playfully and then bit softly on her left earlobe, earning a gasp. "Close your eyes?" he asked. She did.

A shuffling told her he had pulled out his wand, a soft incantation was murmured, and a thick ribbon was placed over her eyes. Some more shuffling and movement happened before she was picked up again and she came in touch with bare skin. Ron was only in his denims now.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling a tingle run through every part of her body. "Where are we going?" she asked, and he responded by softly biting her lip once.

"You'll see," he told her.

It wasn't long before he placed her down and turned her. She could sense him behind her and his lips were pressed at her nape and the ribbon was pulled away. Once her eyes adjusted, she noticed she was in front of a mirror in what was a simple but pretty bedroom.

He met her eyes via the mirror. He was only wearing his denims, bare footed and towering over her from behind. Their stark height difference was made more prominent because unlike the previous evening, she no longer had high heels.

"This is what I craved to do last evening," he told her and placed an open-mouthed kiss on her right nape, sucking hard, his left hand was on her waist and his thumb brushed over her left breast. Clothed though it was, his touch was fire. She shuddered, losing her footing momentarily when Ron met her gaze and the need and love in them froze her on her spot.

Without breaking eye-contact, he used his right hand to pull the zipper at the back of the dress down. He grabbed the fabric at her right shoulder and pulled it down, revealing the light pink bra strap and exposing the bra-clad right breast.

"Unfair," he whispered. "Last evening, you weren't wearing a bra," he told her, hooked a finger at the strap and pulled it down completely. The slight cold air hit her skin, perking her nipple.

Ron was breathing heavily, and she instinctively placed her palm over her nipple covering it. It did not hide anything and Ron held her hand in his and removed it. "I was dying to see you naked," he told her. She blushed at his words and as she watched him watching her reflection, her nipple perked under his gaze. Wordlessly, he pulled down the other side of the dress as well, pulling the bra off along with it.

And then his large, slightly calloused hands were over her breasts, covering them, tenderly rubbing the pad of his thumbs over the sensitive nipples, Hermione moaned and arched, chasing the touch, closing her eyes to just feel him pinching them between his indexes and thumbs and rolling them. His movements were soft and careful as if he was worried, he'd hurt her, and she could feel his eyes watching her in the mirror as she squirmed under his ministrations.

Her nipples were hurting in the most pleasant way possible, and when Ron began kissing her nape and the pleasure point just below her earlobe, she cried in pleasure, holding him in his place by grabbing the back of his head. He had not let go of her nipples, was still rolling them between his fingers, slightly harder now than before.

"I need to see you," he muttered in between kisses, and she gave a small node of approval. "Open your eyes and watch," he asked, and she managed that too. The dress was pulled down further, down her waist and then her hips before he dropped it to pool at her feet.

"Fuck," he groaned as her pink knickers came into view.

"Did you, did you fantasise about me removing your knickers?" he asked, voice hoarse, breathing in gasps, watching their reflection still.

"Yes," she managed quietly.

"Fuck…"

With his left hand he pulled just the front of her knickers down and his right hand was now shoved inside. His left hand went back to her nipple. Emotions on overdrive, Hermione admitted quietly to herself that this was so much better than her fantasy. No one but Ron made her crave intimacy so much. She almost blacked out for a minute when his right palm lay flat against her most intimate parts and then he rubbed his finger over her clit. She cried out his name and rubbed herself against him. She was still technically wearing her knickers, but Ron had his hand shoved inside it and in the mirror, she could see his fingers moving underneath the flimsy clothing as he rubbed his fingers over and over against her clit and then her entrance. She was soaking and crying and Ron was shaking silently himself as he continued his ministrations.

"You…you aren't hurting, are you?" he asked between laboured gasps. His left hand reached out for her right breast and kneaded it.

"Nnoo," she moaned.

When she was sure she couldn't take it anymore, his left hand pulled the panty off, revealing her bare skin to both of them.

"Look at me?" he pleaded, voice strained, eyes heavy with desire, and as soon as she did, his middle finger pushed into her folds. She came calling out his name, shuddering in his arms, while he continued to shove his finger in and out of her.

"This is what I wanted to do last night," he told her.

…..

"I want to kiss you all over," he told her a little later.

He had carried her to the bed and was lying next to her, head resting on his left arm, still clad in his denims.

Soft, light glowed from the candles, and Hermione traced the familiar scars on his shoulder. She couldn't get enough of touching him. He was much more muscular than his younger days and his skin felt different somehow although she couldn't decide what was different.

"You have already done that," she reminded him. Her skin bore marks all over. She wondered if ought to cover herself up but to be honest, she did not want to. Letting him watch her in her most vulnerable moments, lying naked next to him, was a pleasure in itself. Ron was an extension of her own self; it was like coming home.

"Not enough," he told her, "I promised I'll show you how much I've been craving you all these days." He placed his mouth over her right breast, taking it in his mouth, sucking it and then leaving it with a soft pop. Hermione was soaking again. Placing a finger at her navel, he began tracing it down, down down and stopped just short of pushing it back in into her.

"Why - why aren't you undressing?" she asked, her body arching to meet his touch.

"You allowed me to take the lead," he reminded, "Let me have some little control left, let me take care of you first," he added, before placing his lips on her shoulder and kissing again. Two fingers rubbed against her drenched entrance.

"Can you take in two fingers, Hermione?" he asked, breath laboured. As much as she was enjoying this slow torture, Hermione was craving more, craving him. They had been barely teens earlier; their short spell of intimacy was more exploratory than actual experience. But now that they were older, she realised that they fit in together beautifully. No one could elicit the kind of need and passion in her as Ron could. She loved and enjoyed this closeness, it made her feel complete, and in love, with both him and her own body.

"Don't ask me. Aren't you taking the lead?" she asked, her voice shaky but determined. She held his hand and guided his fingers inside her and began moving her body in rhythm and chasing the feeling. "You aren't hurting me," she added somehow, her words muffled and coming out in gasps. "But yes, you are torturing me by taking it so slow," she moaned. She needed him, so bad. "Can you please…"

"Please what?" he asked, making his movements faster, pushing the fingers deep inside her, rubbing her clit at the same time with his thumb and sucking on her nipple, harder than before. Clearly, he was losing control too,

"Ron?" she cried, her left hand over his as his fingers began more rapid. She knew he was hard too, for she could feel him despite the denim.

She wanted him so bad,

"Hmph?" he replied.

What she wanted to ask him drowned in a loud moan as she came again.

…

Hermione was dishevelled in the most beautiful ways possible. Ron still couldn't fathom that the girl lying naked next to him, with love bites scattered all over her body, hair messed up and cheeks bursting with colour was none other than the girl he had loved all his life.

He was so hard that he was practically hurting at this point, but he had to take care of her first.

"Get rid of your denims," she told him, and he did as asked. Clad just in his boxers he approached her again and was momentarily shocked at noticing how she was watching him. Yes, he still had the glamour charm on his chest, but it was only because he couldn't bring it up now. Other than that, he was lying bare in front of the girl who owned him, mind, body and soul.

Hermione sat up, scooted closer and traced his brain scars again. Pulling him closer, she placed her lips on his, pressing herself into him. He was hard, and of course she could see that.

"Aren't you hurting?" she asked quietly, as if reading his thoughts.

"A little, yes," he lied.

"Can I help you?" she pleaded, her hands tracing its way down, but he grasped her hand at his navel.

"I'll cum if you touch me, Hermione," he replied honestly.

"Then you should hurry up and give me your wand," she asked before chuckling at her own joke.

"Smart," he laughed and managed to distance himself from her just enough to grab his wand from the bedside table and hand it to her.

Ron knew Hermione could do it non-verbally if she wanted but she looked him in the eye as she turned the wand in a practiced motion over her abdomen and called out the contraceptive charm.

"You should get the potion stocked up," he told her as he helped her lay down and finally shimmied out of his boxers.

"Mmm hmm" she agreed, pulled up her knees and spread her legs and pulled him in for a kiss, her hand snaking down to wrap around his length, he moaned aloud at her touch, and pumped a couple of times, before helping him position at her entrance.

There was nothing in the world apart from the two of them, he thought as he pulled her closer and pushed himself inside her, both gasping at the union and perhaps crying out a little too.

She kissed him fervently and wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning, and hugging him as he buried himself inside her, going deeper with every thrust, wrapping himself around her for where else did he belong if not in her arms?

He came crying out her name, holding her tight in his arms and she followed soon after.

He was hers again at last…
...

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