eruditefics (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eruditefics) wrote2012-08-01 07:16 pm
eruditefics) wrote2012-08-01 07:16 pm
Entry tags:
"If It's Beaches" and NC-17 Ron/Hermione fic
Title: If It’s Beaches
Author/Artist:eruditefics
Recipient's LJ name:shy_of_reality
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Ron/Hermione
Word Count: 6489
Warnings (if any): *Some angst, lots of fluff.*
Summary: Hermione thinks she knows what’s best for her relationship, Ron thinks he has no choice.
Author/Artist notes: Thanks to C for the quick beta as always! The lyrics are from the song “If It’s Beaches” by The Avett Brothers. I tried to make this fic fit your prompt. I hope you love it, Shy!
written for thehp_porninthesun fest
Don't say it's over
Cuz that's the worst news I could hear
I swear that I will
Do my best to be here just the way you like it.
Hermione took Ron’s large hand in both of her hands, and pulled his arm to her chest. She sighed a few times to try to keep her composure before looking up at him. She knew the moment she looked at his face, she’d lose her resolve, but she had to stay focused. If she wanted any chance of them lasting longer than a few months, she had to do this.
“Ron, you know I’m leaving for Australia tomorrow to get my mum and dad back,” Hermione stated. He just nodded and let his thumb move over one of her fingers. “And we already discussed why you can’t come with me.”
“I’m needed here. I need to be with mum right now,” Ron croaked, and Hermione just nodded.
“I might be there for a long time. And it’s so hard to portkey back and forth. Not to mention I’m going to need to focus on my parents and mending the damage I’ve done,” Hermione explained, her voice shaking.
“Necessary damage, Hermione,” Ron said, his eyes gaining a flinty look. He was onto her.
“It’s just, we’ve gotten this thing between us started, but how can we move forward while I’m a world away for Merlin knows how long?” Hermione held onto his hands a little tighter.
“We’ve survived worse,” Ron said, his voice a little higher than it should have been.
“Never distance, Ron. How can we make a go of it for real with me so far away from here?” Hermione pleaded. She was almost desperate for an answer, though she knew there wasn’t one.
“I’m fine with letters,” Ron whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek she hadn’t known she’d shed.
“I just think it would be better for both of us if we put this on hold until we can give it our full attention,” Hermione said, her voice betraying her lack of resolve.
“Hermione, no.” Now Ron’s voice was shaking too.
“When I come back, we can finally be a real couple. After years of dancing around this, and then mere weeks of being with each other, we need time to be just you and me. We can’t do that with so much still hanging over our heads. Hermione was crying in earnest now as she saw Ron’s face get a little more pale.
“I won’t let go of you,” Ron said. “I promised. I love you. Nothing will change that.”
“Then a break won’t do any damage,” Hermione said, though she wasn’t sure if she believed it.
“It won’t make me love you any less, but it will hurt so much more,” Ron answered, letting go of her hand and turning away.
“Ron, please. Please just look at me!” Hermione begged as she pulled at his shoulders. He turned around and grabbed the sides of her face.
“You are it for me, Hermione. This is it. It’s not going to change. Why do you have to do this?” Ron was searching her eyes now and there was no bite to his voice.
“Because it makes sense,” Hermione answered weakly. Suddenly, Ron’s face became hard and he stood and walked away from her. She let him go, because if she went after him, she knew she’d try to take it all back.
Even though it's hard to hide;
Push my feelings all aside
I will rearrange my plans and change for you.
It had been three weeks since Hermione left, and Ron still missed her. He missed her smell, the feel of her skin, and even the high-pitched screech she made when she was upset about something. Ron missed the way he would cling to her, in that time after the war, and bury his face in her hair as they slept. Ever since the first night, in the ruins of Gryffindor Tower, they had slept pressed up close to one another, like letting go would send them falling into some chasm.
He missed the way her fingers got rigid and dug into his skin when they made love. Sure, it had only happened twice, but the force behind her grip and the wild way her hair would rise around her head made it feel like he was being swept up. Ron disappeared when he was with her, and it was a blissful escape from reality.
Mostly, however, Ron missed the look in her eyes. Sure, he loved the flinty intellect that shone in her deep, brown gaze, but it was the way she looked at him that made him weak in the knees. It took years to get there, but when Hermione looked up at him now, she looked at him with absolute faith that stole his breath. Now, he didn’t even get to speak to her, let alone look down at her.
When she left, he wanted to beg her to stay. He wanted to hold her wrists as tightly as he could and insist she not go anywhere without him. He wanted her to wait. He knew it was selfish. She needed to go and get her parents and he needed to stay in England. He also knew that if he did put his foot down and demand she stay, she would leave anyway and be incredibly bitter about it. He learned long ago not to blow up at her about the serious things, or she would pull away. He let her go without saying one word against it, but it made him want to explode inside.
The night before she left, they made love for the third time. Ron was tempted to keep check marks on his bedpost, but if she had seen that, she would have likely reduced his old bed to splinters. He tried as hard as he could to memorize every inch of her body. He was careful, and gentle. The first time, it was fast and desperate in the hours after the war. There was an urgency and a level of adrenaline that kept them moving at a bruising pace, and left some real bruises on both of their bodies. The second time was hurried fumbling in his bedroom while his family was all out. But before she left, Ron made sure to go as slow as possible. He just needed a memory to hold on to, and she needed to stay close to him on their last night.
Ron trudged out to the summer garden, trying to keep his mind off of his vanishing girlfriend. He thought throwing some gnomes might be a useful pastime, but when he got there, someone was already flinging them over the gates. He opened the gate to see Percy, standing in his shirtsleeves and covered in dust. His glasses were askew and he was going after each gnome with gusto, not taking a breath in between. Ron watched as Percy kept tossing them over and over again, until finally there weren’t any more, and Percy just shouted ‘Fuck’ and sat down in the dirt. Against his better judgment, Ron walked over to him.
“Um…Hey mate. Need any help?” Ron said, unsure if he should reach out and help his brother up.
“No, the work is finished now. There’s nothing more to do. There’s nothing more to be done,” Percy answered cryptically. He was looking straight ahead with dead eyes. Ron started to get a little worried.
“Wanna go grab a cuppa then?” Ron said, deciding his first move should be to get Percy off of the ground.
“Not really.”
“How about some toast and jam? You love mum’s preserves,” Ron asked, trying to sound casual.
“She shouldn’t be making FUCKING jam right now!” Percy shouted, rising to his feet. Well, at least he was off the ground.
“I think it’s leftover from…from…before,” Ron stumbled trying to find a good way to say, ‘before everything went to shit’.
“No jam for me,” Percy whispered. “No jam…” he trailed off, and Ron was sure he was about to sit down again.
“I’ve got this…this problem. I was wondering if you could come inside with me and help me out,” Ron said, desperate to get his brother’s attention away from whatever was storming in his mind.
“What’s wrong?” Percy said, turning is light blue eyes on Ron with genuine concern. He almost sighed with relief.
“Well, have you noticed that Hermione is gone?” Ron asked, his face turning red.
“Oh my, did she break up with you?” Percy asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Kind of? I’m still not very sure what happened. Just that she left and she thought it would be best if we weren’t together while she was gone,” Ron explained, shocked at his own honesty. Of all his siblings, he knew the least about Percy. But there he was, looking at the earnest look on his brother’s face and ready to tell him everything.
()()()()()()()
“Well, her logic is sound, but I would expect nothing less from Miss Granger,” Percy sipped his tea and sighed.
Ron had told Percy every detail, every word she said, and every answer he had. Now they sat there at the old family table, Percy still covered in dirt, drinking tea and eating biscuits. Two years ago, Ron would have never thought he would be sitting there with Percy.
“I know it is-“ Ron started, but Percy raised his hand to interrupt.
“And it’s bollocks,” Percy finished, taking a surprisingly hearty bite of his biscuit. “This is hurting you, Ron. I can see it. I may have been drowning in my own sea of grief for the past few weeks, but I do have eyes.”
“It’s killing me,” Ron whispered. “I hate being far from her, but I knew that had to happen. What I didn’t expect was not being able to call her mine.”
“I’m sure she feels the same way,” Percy said, and he sounded like he genuinely believed it. “I think this is a hard thing she’s doing. She just needs some space to handle this herself. You guys have faced everything together, but family…that can be an entirely different fire to walk through.” Percy stared at some unexplainable fixed point over Ron’s head and seemed to drift away again.
“How do you know all this?” Ron asked. He wanted to add, ‘I’ve haven’t seen you with a girl in years’, but left his jibe alone.
“I fell in love,” Percy said calmly. He patted Ron’s shoulder one more time, and then as quickly as he joined Ron’s day, he was gone. At least he wasn’t trapped in his own head anymore.
Ron finished Percy’s biscuit and decided that he was exactly where he needed to be. He knew his family needed him, even Percy, and that gave him a little more direction. He resolved to continue making sure his siblings didn’t fall to pieces, and was suddenly imbued with a purpose he hadn’t found since Hermione left.
So why did the ache in his chest still throb?
()()()()()()
If I could go back
Then that's the first thing I would do
I swear that I would
Do my best to follow through
Come up with a master plan
A homerun hit a winning stand
A guarantee and not a promise
That I will never let your love slip through my hands.
Being in Australia had been trying. Hermione found her parents, but of course they didn’t remember her at all. She supposed she should be proud of her superior spell work, but instead she was just destroyed that after a year of fighting for her life, she couldn’t run into her mother’s arms at first sight. It had taken three weeks to fully restore their memories, and now of course they were terribly upset with her.
After a particularly heated argument in which they accused her of being selfish and she countered back that if she wasn’t they would be dead, she stormed out. Her parents lived only a few blocks from the coast, so she made her way to the ocean to nestle her feet in the sand and imagined how long it would take her to swim back to England. She pictured herself just giving up and rushing back to Ron, but she knew she’d be a coward if she did.
She looked down at her book reluctantly. Tucked in the pages was a letter from Ron. His letters had been getting more and more transactional and less warm with each one. When he started writing her, he gave her every detail and threw in a few bits of sentimentality that surprised her. However, every letter got shorter, and the sweet nothings began to disappear. Hermione tried to pretend that he was just getting bored writing letters, but a niggling feeling in the back of her mind told her otherwise.
She harboured a secret fear that Ron would soon find her lacking. She was controlling and rational to a fault. He constantly teased her for her bookish ways and she knew she could be a bit intense with her intellectual pursuits. She always feared he would realize he was better suited for someone more passionate…more like him. He could pair off with someone who simmered with beautiful energy like Gabrielle Delacour, someone who was always interesting like Luna Lovegood, or someone as obsessed with Quidditch as him like Katie Bell. Hermione sometimes feared it was only a matter of time before Ron came to his senses.
She broke the seal of her letter worried that this one would carry the inevitable end to what she thought was the only relationship she could be happy in.
Hermione,
How’s Australia? I hope it’s sunny there. It’s getting a bit chilly in the mornings here. It’s been raining too. We’re getting all antsy not being to go outside too much. Pretty soon it’ll even be too cold to swim. As soon as you and Gin leave for Seventh Year, summer will really be over.
Things have been okay here. I got to spend some time with George. He’s been talking a little bit more. Mostly one or two words, but he’s making eye contact more. Percy has been hanging around, and I’m pretty okay with it. I think Bill is trying to get Fleur knocked up, but I’d rather not think about that.
Harry has been cleaning out Grimmauld Place. He won’t let me help him, and I’m letting him be alone for now. I don’t know if him and Gin are ever gonna hook back up, but I’m not sure I’m too bothered by that either.
I hope you love the sunshine.
Cheers,
Ron
It was the shortest letter yet, and it sounded like something one would write their second cousin.
Distance was supposed to make the heart grow fonder, but Hermione was angry to learn that the old adage was woefully incorrect. It was official. Ron didn’t want her any longer. Hermione was hurt, but she had time to cry on the beach before going back to her parents. She had already told them all about her and Ron, and she didn’t want to burden them with her problems. Hermione composed a thoughtful, but very non-romantic letter, composed herself, and walked back to the home of the former Wendell and Monica Wilkins, promising herself that when she returned she would try to at least hold on to Ron as a friend.
()()()()()()()()
If it's the beaches
If it's the beaches sands you want then you will have them
If it's the mountain's bending rivers then you will have them
If it's a wish to run away then I will grant it
Ron bounced from foot to foot, barely containing his excitement. Hermione was due back any minute, and he waited not-so-patiently with Harry at his side for Hermione’s form to appear in the designated area of the International Portkey Office. He could almost feel her hair between his fingers and hear her laugh ring in his ears. Finally…finally she could be his.
When she finally appeared, Ron called out her name and bounded to her with his arms open. The smile on her face faded, and she bit the side of her lip. He pulled her against his chest, but she just patted his back and pulled away. He looked down at her, to try to read the emotions that moved across her face so freely, but he only saw an indifferent mask. He felt a small stab of foreboding in his gut.
“Where are your parents?” Harry asked, picking up Hermione’s bag.
“Oh they love Australia far too much to come back. They have already contacted a realtor to put the house here up for sale,” Hermione explained, a smile not quite reaching her eyes. “And I really don’t blame them! I loved it there.”
“When are you going back?” Harry asked. Ron began to detect a bitter taste in the back of his throat.
“I think I’ll be living there permanently when this final year of school is done. I’ve already talked to some wizards down there about becoming a research assistant,” Hermione answered, purposely avoiding Ron’s eyes.
The floor fell out from beneath Ron. He could picture Hermione ripping his heart out and doing a little dance all over it. Harry was looking back and forth between them, confusion and worry knitting his brows. Hermione looked back to him as though she would explain it later. Ron hoped that she would explain it to him. He grabbed her other bag and they made their way back to the Burrow.
When Hermione got back, she asked Mrs. Weasley if she could stay at The Burrow for the remaining month before school started. She, of course, said yes, and Ron went up to his room without another word to anyone. He cast a silencing charm, locked the door, and began to rage at his limited amount of belongings. He threw his quaffle at the wall, along with a spare beater’s bat. The bat bounced back and hit him square in the shoulder. It took a few more rebounding flying objects and bruises on Ron’s body before he realized the walls had been charmed long ago to prevent destruction resulting from rambunctious play. He sat down on his bed, not sure if he wanted to seethe or cry. He opted for the former, as the latter would be far too humiliating.
Suddenly, the door to his room was blasted off and Harry, Percy, and George all stood there with their wands drawn. Ron stood up and raised his wand against them. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he just wanted a fight. He started a stunning spell before Harry managed to get a shield charm up.
“Come on now, Ronnie, no need to be acting like a ickle firstie because your girlfwend doesn’t wuv you anymore,” George mocked. Sure, he picked THAT moment to come back himself. Ron leapt back at George, ready to take him out with a swift punch, but was thrown back by Harry’s shield.
“You two should take off,” Harry said, in a voice that seemed to intone, ‘I am the one who killed Voldemort. Leave or I’ll twist your insides.’
As soon as George and Percy were gone, Harry cancelled all the spells and began to put Ron’s room back in order. Ron just stood there, frozen in the middle of the room, and waited for his best mate to deliver the blow that would confirm the truth he had been avoiding since Hermione had returned. When Harry didn’t speak, Ron was ready to rage again.
“What the bloody hell are you doing here, Harry? Can’t you just mind your own business?” Ron asked with as much malice as he could find as the lump in his throat grew larger.
“Not really. Not where the both of you are concerned,” Harry answered calmly, sitting on the bed. “What’s going on with you two?”
“How the bloody hell should I know? She’s a nutter! She comes back and I expect things to be the way they were, like she promised, and then she barely looks at me? She’s already found a job and she’s leaving? What did I do?” Ron was shouting again.
“I asked her what was going on, she just shook her head and said it was over. I was hoping for more details,” Harry shrugged. “This all seems a little fast and inexplicable to me.”
And there were the two words that sealed Ron’s fate: It’s over. It was over. After seven years of loving her, he had blown his chance and now it was over. His best mate sat there confirming it. Ron promptly sat down on the floor and put his head into his hands. It didn’t even try to hide the tears anymore. He was shocked when Harry wrapped his arms around Ron’s shoulders, but he didn’t pull away.
()()()()()()()()
After two weeks of living under the same roof as Hermione, Ron was finally beginning to feel normal again. He could stand the deep ache in his gut, just as long as he wasn't alone with her. If Ron found himself alone with Hermione, he would make an excuse to leave. It was a terrible, and kind of cowardly plan, but it was a face-saving thing and he had no other options. If he wanted to be happy, he was going to have to learn to live with the feeling.
He could see Hermione's smile fade and her eyes water every time he dodged a conversation with her, or made a point to sit as far away from her as possible, but he didn't see what choice he had. She was the only one he wanted, and she didn't want him back. If he had to face that day in and day out, he was sure he would go mad. He could tell that Harry and the rest of his family were on to his plan, and the whispers behind their hands were an annoying price to pay. Ron had to get on with his life.
Hermione slept in Bill's room, which was on the second floor next to Ginny's. Ron was relieved she was put there, since he was all the way at the top of The Burrow, and didn't have to spend his nights awake wondering if he could hear the soft, slow sounds of her breath. As Ron pulled the covers back on his old, rickety bed, he downed a little bit of the Dreamless Sleep potion that George procured him in lieu of an apology and resigned himself to another blank, dark night of sleep without any dreams of Hermione.
About halfway through the night, the empty void of his mind was pierced by a high pitched scream. Ron tried to find the source of it, but he could not open his eyes. He felt like he was floating in darkness and there was no way out. He tried to wake up, tried to fight through the potion, but nothing seemed to be working. The scream was maddening, and he knew he had to wake up and do something about it or everything would fall apart. Suddenly, Hermione's name was shouted over the chasm in his head.
Ron sat up immediately, his bedroom coming into focus as he took deep breaths and tried to get his bearings. The screaming continued, coupled with sobs. He knew it was Hermione. Something was wrong with her. He could hear Ginny shouting her name as he bounded out of his room and down the creaky wooden steps, taking three at a time. When he got to Bill's old bedroom, everyone was crowded inside with dire looks on their face, surrounding the bed. Ron's heart began to race.
"Where is she? What's wrong?" Ron shouted, pushing his family out of the way.
"She's having some sort of nightmare, she won't wake up. She keeps screaming and crying," Ginny said, her hands not so gently slapping the sides of Hermione's face as she tossed and turned frantically in her sheets.
Ron gestured for Ginny to move and lay down on the bed next to Hermione. He didn't think about being shirtless, in his pajama bottoms, and in front of his family. He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around her writhing body. Soon, her jerking motions began to stop, and she continued to whimper and cry into the crook of Ron's neck.
"It's okay, love. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. It's over," Ron whispered soothing words over and over again.
Hermione occasionally had nightmares since the war ended. Mostly, she would relive her torture at the hands of that mad witch Bellatrix Lestrange. However, Ron was always there, holding her tightly and comforting her. He felt an acute sense of guilt at the notion that he hadn't been there for her. She was alone all those long nights. What if she had a nightmare? Where would he be? He knew she didn't want him anymore, but that was no reason to be callous. He hated himself for ignoring her.
"Ron?" Her tiny, wary voice reverberated around the quiet room in the wake of her cries.
"I'm here, 'Mione. You're at The Burrow. It's okay." Ron said, running a hand up and down the back. "I'm not going anywhere." Ron looked up to see his family walking out of the room and Harry nodding before closing the door behind him.
“Don’t leave, Ron. Please don’t leave!” Hermione cried, shaking and gripping his arms tightly.
“I won’t leave you, love. I will always be here for you, I promise.” Ron whispered against the hair bunching around her neck. He knew he shouldn’t be making those sorts of promises to someone who didn’t love him, but he also knew he wouldn’t break a single word of them.
She fell asleep with his arms still around her shoulders. Ron was so afraid of letting go of his mind and just pretending that she was his again, that he didn’t sleep at all. He just remained there, holding her and rubbing her back until the sun came up. Then he slipped out and went downstairs in search of a distraction.
()()()()()()()
Take whatever you think of
While I go gas up the truck
Pack the old love letters up
We will read them when we forget why we left here...
Hermione woke up alone, and her heart broke even more at the sight of her empty bed and the cold feeling around her bare shoulders. It felt different last night. She felt like she was back where she belonged, with his heart beating softly against her ear. It gave her so much hope that she was terrified to wake up and find it dashed away.
And it certainly was.
Her nightmare hadn’t been the normal fare. Usually, she dreamt over and over of fiendfyre, her torture, and being chased through the woods on an endless loop. Last night, however, Hermione had dreamed of the time Ron left. Only this time, as he was leaving, he crumbled to pieces in front of her. She tried to put him back together, but she couldn’t. The scene would replay, she would beg him to stay, and he would crumble again. The metaphor wasn’t lost on her, to say the least.
She got up and took a deep breath, still smelling Ron on her skin. It had been so long since his unique scent had lingered with her that she had almost forgotten what he smelled like. Almost. He had been avoiding her like Black Death since she came back, and Hermione hadn’t had a chance to look at him for too long, let alone breathe him in. She felt bereft. She barely heard the gentle knock on her door before Harry carefully walked in.
“What was that last night?” Harry asked thoughtfully, sitting down on the bed next to her.
“It was just a terrible nightmare,” Hermione whispered.
“No, the part where you clung to Ron like it was life or death,” Harry said, his eyebrows going so high they disappeared under his shaggy hair line.
“That...um...that was,” Hermione blushed at Harry’s knowing gaze.
“You told me it was over. You told him it was over. Please don’t do this to him,” Harry said, and it looked like he was choosing his words very carefully.
“Wait. Harry? When did I tell you or Ron it was over?” Hermione asked, suddenly struck by impossibility.
“When you arrived here. I went to ask you what was going on and you said ‘it’s over’,” Harry explained.
“I wasn’t going to talk about it anymore. I was waiting for him to come to me. His letters were so distant, I assumed he didn’t want to be with me,” Hermione said, her voice getting wobbly.
“Fuck, Hermione. Ron will always want to be with you,” Harry said.
Hermione excused herself and went into the loo to splash water on her face. She looked out the window, and in the distance she could see Ron standing in the apple orchard. He was waving his wand, the apples swirling around his head as they moved from the tree to his bushel baskets. He was in just jeans and sandals, and Hermione could see the reflection of his skin in the sunlight all the way from her place in The Burrow. She wanted no more than to run her lips over his pale back. She spared herself one resolute glance and then made her way out to the orchards.
()()()()()()()()()()()
Hermione found Ron looking up at the sun with disdain as he vanished away the sweat from his body. He was still moving apples into baskets with a fierce determination that would have looked more in place on a battlefield. Hermione wondered what was really going through his head.
“Do you need a hand?” Hermione asked bravely.
“I think I have this pretty well handled here,” Ron answered without looking at her.
“It’s certainly warm,” Hermione said, ready to offer him a glass of water, pumpkin juice, pure chilled spring water from Norway if he just acknowledged her.
For a while, Ron didn’t answer. He conjured some gloves and began to pull at a dying branch on the apple tree in front of them. Hermione just stood there, watching his body shift and flex as he struggled with the tree. Finally, Ron just ripped the branch off and threw it, turning a burning gaze on her that made her shrink away slightly.
“Damnit, Hermione. Stop fucking playing with me! Just leave me alone. You made it very clear what you wanted,” Ron shouted, turning around and ripping at healthy branches with force.
“Oh really? Because I don’t recall ever stating to you-” Hermione started, feeling her own ire grow.
“Oh just shut up. I can’t do this with you. I can’t do anything with you,” Ron sounded angry, but he looked heartbroken, and Hermione felt her anger rise at that.
“Listen, Ron. You were the one who started writing me letters like you were writing to your cousin,” Hermione said, but as soon as the words left her lips, they sounded ridiculous.
“I was giving you bloody space! I thought that’s what you wanted,” Ron yelled and threw another branch. “And then you came back and it was like...like I didn’t matter at all.”
“I thought...” Hermione started, but she had no idea how to finish.
“You thought! You thought! Did you even bother to fucking ask what I thought?” Ron yelled.
“Now you listen here! I loved you! I love you. I will never bloody stop! Just because you are too asinine--” Hermione ended her diatribe there because Ron was charging toward her. But she refused to be cowed.
Suddenly, all the anger and vitriol that was swirling around seemed to vanish from Ron’s face, and he looked at Hermione so intensely that she thought she might turn to stone in front of him. He reached up and placed his hands on her face with remarkable gentleness for what the situation would have produced.
“You love me?” Ron whispered against Hermione’s lips. She could only nod.
Ron’s lips crashed against hers with force that made her knees almost give way. His hand slid to the back of her neck, and Hermione tilted her head back to deepen the kiss. She reached up and clasped her hands on Ron’s shoulders, pulling him tightly against her. She moaned slightly when his tongue moved across her lips.
He grunted when she kissed him back, running her tongue along the roof of his mouth. She loved the sounds he made when he began to come undone. She devoured him from the lips, and he came back at her with equal frenzy. He began pulling her further into the shade of the tree as they kissed.
When Ron’s erection pressed up against her centre, Hermione’s body quivered. She wanted him so badly it almost hurt. She thrust her hips against his and they both groaned. Ron began to kiss down her neck and over her jaw line as he hands creeped up her shirt.
“Someone could see,” Hermione said, before whimpering as Ron’s nimble fingers found her nipple.
“Then we better be incredibly quiet,” Ron whispered, cupping her breasts and moaning. Hermione could only whine slightly at the implication.
Hermione reached down and stroked Ron’s erection through his jeans, groaning at his long, thick cock. She wanted him inside her so badly, being outside and in his back garden suddenly didn’t matter any longer. When his fingers brushed over her sensitive lips through her jeans, Hermione only wanted them both naked immediately.
“Fuck, Hermione! Fuck...wait,” Ron moaned, resting his head on her shoulder.
“If we’re going to do this, we’re doing all of this,” Ron said, and Hermione’s heart started pounding in her chest.
“Everything Ron. I love you so much,” Hermione whispered.
“I love you too, Hermione,” Ron said, swiftly pulling her shirt over her head. Hermione wondered if she should reach for her wand to get rid of the remainder of their clothing, but Ron was looking at her like a gift to be unwrapped, and she couldn’t resist allowing him to pull her jeans and panties off in one even tug.
Ron shook his jeans and pants off, and then looked at Hermione hungrily. He put two fingers in his mouth, and Hermione groaned, longing to feel his tongue against her skin. His hot erection hovered near her abdomen, but he reached down and ran his slick fingers through her center. Parting her flesh and swirling around the sensitive nub hidden there. Hermione’s hips bucked.
“I want you right now, Hermione. Please,” Ron moaned, biting on her earlobe when he finished his plea. He plunged his fingers inside of her and Hermione had to grip his shoulders to keep from falling. She leaned slightly, and her bare back hit the trunk of the tree. She arched her hips up to take him deeper, meeting his eyes since his body was so low to get to her. Ron’s pupils nearly covered the deep blue, and Hermione could feel the desire course through her.
“Yes, Ron. Yes,” Hermione moaned, throwing her head back and exposing her throat to his nips and bites.
Ron’s throbbing cock entered in her with one swift motion, and he held himself inside of her while her body adjusted to his girth. Her walls clenched around him. She knew she would come more quickly than she ever had before, and she thrust down to feel more of his length in her body. He let out a string of expletives and began to pump himself in and out of her with quick, hard strokes.
“Oh god, Ron. More,” Hermione said, throwing her head back again. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, his hands under her arse, and her arms over his shoulders. He was holding her up, as her body had long since gone limp. She was overwhelmed and crushed at the same time with a need she thought would certainly be inconsolable.
“Come for me,love,” Ron whispered, running his lips along the shell of her ear even as he continued to thrust wildly inside of her.
She dug her nails into his back and clenched every single muscle she could as the electricity jolted through her. Her body pulsed tightly around him as wave after wave hit her hard and he continued to pound in and out at a merciless pace. When her body finally gave way in a spectacular explosion and a series of tiny quakes, Ron groaned and pressed her hard against the tree. She felt his cock twitch inside of her and the heat of his seed fill her.
They remained frozen there, Ron’s breath rapid against her neck and her feet locked together behind his back. When her body calmed enough she was able to pry her fingers from his shoulders, he hissed in pain. He pulled her up away from the tree, and it was her turn to hiss.
“Sorry,” they both said, and their voices echoed around the afternoon silence of the orchard. That was quickly followed with an awkward chuckle. She slowly unlocked her legs and he set her down gently. She reached down and grabbed her wand, casting the quickest (and gentlest) cleaning spell she could think of before awkwardly looking around for her clothes, still stuck between the tree and Ron’s body.
“I meant what I said,” Hermione whispered, looking up at him carefully. Ron looked at her with a mixture of surprise and relief that broke her heart a little more. “Ron, I’m so-”
“I meant it too, love. It’s okay,” He said, pulling her against him. She sighed and let the moment linger just a little longer.
“Never again,” Hermione whispered. Life only ever made sense when she was in Ron’s arms, and she knew she could weather anything as long as they were together.
Author/Artist:
eruditefics Recipient's LJ name:
shy_of_reality Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Ron/Hermione
Word Count: 6489
Warnings (if any): *Some angst, lots of fluff.*
Summary: Hermione thinks she knows what’s best for her relationship, Ron thinks he has no choice.
Author/Artist notes: Thanks to C for the quick beta as always! The lyrics are from the song “If It’s Beaches” by The Avett Brothers. I tried to make this fic fit your prompt. I hope you love it, Shy!
written for the
hp_porninthesun festDon't say it's over
Cuz that's the worst news I could hear
I swear that I will
Do my best to be here just the way you like it.
Hermione took Ron’s large hand in both of her hands, and pulled his arm to her chest. She sighed a few times to try to keep her composure before looking up at him. She knew the moment she looked at his face, she’d lose her resolve, but she had to stay focused. If she wanted any chance of them lasting longer than a few months, she had to do this.
“Ron, you know I’m leaving for Australia tomorrow to get my mum and dad back,” Hermione stated. He just nodded and let his thumb move over one of her fingers. “And we already discussed why you can’t come with me.”
“I’m needed here. I need to be with mum right now,” Ron croaked, and Hermione just nodded.
“I might be there for a long time. And it’s so hard to portkey back and forth. Not to mention I’m going to need to focus on my parents and mending the damage I’ve done,” Hermione explained, her voice shaking.
“Necessary damage, Hermione,” Ron said, his eyes gaining a flinty look. He was onto her.
“It’s just, we’ve gotten this thing between us started, but how can we move forward while I’m a world away for Merlin knows how long?” Hermione held onto his hands a little tighter.
“We’ve survived worse,” Ron said, his voice a little higher than it should have been.
“Never distance, Ron. How can we make a go of it for real with me so far away from here?” Hermione pleaded. She was almost desperate for an answer, though she knew there wasn’t one.
“I’m fine with letters,” Ron whispered, wiping a tear from her cheek she hadn’t known she’d shed.
“I just think it would be better for both of us if we put this on hold until we can give it our full attention,” Hermione said, her voice betraying her lack of resolve.
“Hermione, no.” Now Ron’s voice was shaking too.
“When I come back, we can finally be a real couple. After years of dancing around this, and then mere weeks of being with each other, we need time to be just you and me. We can’t do that with so much still hanging over our heads. Hermione was crying in earnest now as she saw Ron’s face get a little more pale.
“I won’t let go of you,” Ron said. “I promised. I love you. Nothing will change that.”
“Then a break won’t do any damage,” Hermione said, though she wasn’t sure if she believed it.
“It won’t make me love you any less, but it will hurt so much more,” Ron answered, letting go of her hand and turning away.
“Ron, please. Please just look at me!” Hermione begged as she pulled at his shoulders. He turned around and grabbed the sides of her face.
“You are it for me, Hermione. This is it. It’s not going to change. Why do you have to do this?” Ron was searching her eyes now and there was no bite to his voice.
“Because it makes sense,” Hermione answered weakly. Suddenly, Ron’s face became hard and he stood and walked away from her. She let him go, because if she went after him, she knew she’d try to take it all back.
Even though it's hard to hide;
Push my feelings all aside
I will rearrange my plans and change for you.
It had been three weeks since Hermione left, and Ron still missed her. He missed her smell, the feel of her skin, and even the high-pitched screech she made when she was upset about something. Ron missed the way he would cling to her, in that time after the war, and bury his face in her hair as they slept. Ever since the first night, in the ruins of Gryffindor Tower, they had slept pressed up close to one another, like letting go would send them falling into some chasm.
He missed the way her fingers got rigid and dug into his skin when they made love. Sure, it had only happened twice, but the force behind her grip and the wild way her hair would rise around her head made it feel like he was being swept up. Ron disappeared when he was with her, and it was a blissful escape from reality.
Mostly, however, Ron missed the look in her eyes. Sure, he loved the flinty intellect that shone in her deep, brown gaze, but it was the way she looked at him that made him weak in the knees. It took years to get there, but when Hermione looked up at him now, she looked at him with absolute faith that stole his breath. Now, he didn’t even get to speak to her, let alone look down at her.
When she left, he wanted to beg her to stay. He wanted to hold her wrists as tightly as he could and insist she not go anywhere without him. He wanted her to wait. He knew it was selfish. She needed to go and get her parents and he needed to stay in England. He also knew that if he did put his foot down and demand she stay, she would leave anyway and be incredibly bitter about it. He learned long ago not to blow up at her about the serious things, or she would pull away. He let her go without saying one word against it, but it made him want to explode inside.
The night before she left, they made love for the third time. Ron was tempted to keep check marks on his bedpost, but if she had seen that, she would have likely reduced his old bed to splinters. He tried as hard as he could to memorize every inch of her body. He was careful, and gentle. The first time, it was fast and desperate in the hours after the war. There was an urgency and a level of adrenaline that kept them moving at a bruising pace, and left some real bruises on both of their bodies. The second time was hurried fumbling in his bedroom while his family was all out. But before she left, Ron made sure to go as slow as possible. He just needed a memory to hold on to, and she needed to stay close to him on their last night.
Ron trudged out to the summer garden, trying to keep his mind off of his vanishing girlfriend. He thought throwing some gnomes might be a useful pastime, but when he got there, someone was already flinging them over the gates. He opened the gate to see Percy, standing in his shirtsleeves and covered in dust. His glasses were askew and he was going after each gnome with gusto, not taking a breath in between. Ron watched as Percy kept tossing them over and over again, until finally there weren’t any more, and Percy just shouted ‘Fuck’ and sat down in the dirt. Against his better judgment, Ron walked over to him.
“Um…Hey mate. Need any help?” Ron said, unsure if he should reach out and help his brother up.
“No, the work is finished now. There’s nothing more to do. There’s nothing more to be done,” Percy answered cryptically. He was looking straight ahead with dead eyes. Ron started to get a little worried.
“Wanna go grab a cuppa then?” Ron said, deciding his first move should be to get Percy off of the ground.
“Not really.”
“How about some toast and jam? You love mum’s preserves,” Ron asked, trying to sound casual.
“She shouldn’t be making FUCKING jam right now!” Percy shouted, rising to his feet. Well, at least he was off the ground.
“I think it’s leftover from…from…before,” Ron stumbled trying to find a good way to say, ‘before everything went to shit’.
“No jam for me,” Percy whispered. “No jam…” he trailed off, and Ron was sure he was about to sit down again.
“I’ve got this…this problem. I was wondering if you could come inside with me and help me out,” Ron said, desperate to get his brother’s attention away from whatever was storming in his mind.
“What’s wrong?” Percy said, turning is light blue eyes on Ron with genuine concern. He almost sighed with relief.
“Well, have you noticed that Hermione is gone?” Ron asked, his face turning red.
“Oh my, did she break up with you?” Percy asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Kind of? I’m still not very sure what happened. Just that she left and she thought it would be best if we weren’t together while she was gone,” Ron explained, shocked at his own honesty. Of all his siblings, he knew the least about Percy. But there he was, looking at the earnest look on his brother’s face and ready to tell him everything.
()()()()()()()
“Well, her logic is sound, but I would expect nothing less from Miss Granger,” Percy sipped his tea and sighed.
Ron had told Percy every detail, every word she said, and every answer he had. Now they sat there at the old family table, Percy still covered in dirt, drinking tea and eating biscuits. Two years ago, Ron would have never thought he would be sitting there with Percy.
“I know it is-“ Ron started, but Percy raised his hand to interrupt.
“And it’s bollocks,” Percy finished, taking a surprisingly hearty bite of his biscuit. “This is hurting you, Ron. I can see it. I may have been drowning in my own sea of grief for the past few weeks, but I do have eyes.”
“It’s killing me,” Ron whispered. “I hate being far from her, but I knew that had to happen. What I didn’t expect was not being able to call her mine.”
“I’m sure she feels the same way,” Percy said, and he sounded like he genuinely believed it. “I think this is a hard thing she’s doing. She just needs some space to handle this herself. You guys have faced everything together, but family…that can be an entirely different fire to walk through.” Percy stared at some unexplainable fixed point over Ron’s head and seemed to drift away again.
“How do you know all this?” Ron asked. He wanted to add, ‘I’ve haven’t seen you with a girl in years’, but left his jibe alone.
“I fell in love,” Percy said calmly. He patted Ron’s shoulder one more time, and then as quickly as he joined Ron’s day, he was gone. At least he wasn’t trapped in his own head anymore.
Ron finished Percy’s biscuit and decided that he was exactly where he needed to be. He knew his family needed him, even Percy, and that gave him a little more direction. He resolved to continue making sure his siblings didn’t fall to pieces, and was suddenly imbued with a purpose he hadn’t found since Hermione left.
So why did the ache in his chest still throb?
()()()()()()
If I could go back
Then that's the first thing I would do
I swear that I would
Do my best to follow through
Come up with a master plan
A homerun hit a winning stand
A guarantee and not a promise
That I will never let your love slip through my hands.
Being in Australia had been trying. Hermione found her parents, but of course they didn’t remember her at all. She supposed she should be proud of her superior spell work, but instead she was just destroyed that after a year of fighting for her life, she couldn’t run into her mother’s arms at first sight. It had taken three weeks to fully restore their memories, and now of course they were terribly upset with her.
After a particularly heated argument in which they accused her of being selfish and she countered back that if she wasn’t they would be dead, she stormed out. Her parents lived only a few blocks from the coast, so she made her way to the ocean to nestle her feet in the sand and imagined how long it would take her to swim back to England. She pictured herself just giving up and rushing back to Ron, but she knew she’d be a coward if she did.
She looked down at her book reluctantly. Tucked in the pages was a letter from Ron. His letters had been getting more and more transactional and less warm with each one. When he started writing her, he gave her every detail and threw in a few bits of sentimentality that surprised her. However, every letter got shorter, and the sweet nothings began to disappear. Hermione tried to pretend that he was just getting bored writing letters, but a niggling feeling in the back of her mind told her otherwise.
She harboured a secret fear that Ron would soon find her lacking. She was controlling and rational to a fault. He constantly teased her for her bookish ways and she knew she could be a bit intense with her intellectual pursuits. She always feared he would realize he was better suited for someone more passionate…more like him. He could pair off with someone who simmered with beautiful energy like Gabrielle Delacour, someone who was always interesting like Luna Lovegood, or someone as obsessed with Quidditch as him like Katie Bell. Hermione sometimes feared it was only a matter of time before Ron came to his senses.
She broke the seal of her letter worried that this one would carry the inevitable end to what she thought was the only relationship she could be happy in.
Hermione,
How’s Australia? I hope it’s sunny there. It’s getting a bit chilly in the mornings here. It’s been raining too. We’re getting all antsy not being to go outside too much. Pretty soon it’ll even be too cold to swim. As soon as you and Gin leave for Seventh Year, summer will really be over.
Things have been okay here. I got to spend some time with George. He’s been talking a little bit more. Mostly one or two words, but he’s making eye contact more. Percy has been hanging around, and I’m pretty okay with it. I think Bill is trying to get Fleur knocked up, but I’d rather not think about that.
Harry has been cleaning out Grimmauld Place. He won’t let me help him, and I’m letting him be alone for now. I don’t know if him and Gin are ever gonna hook back up, but I’m not sure I’m too bothered by that either.
I hope you love the sunshine.
Cheers,
Ron
It was the shortest letter yet, and it sounded like something one would write their second cousin.
Distance was supposed to make the heart grow fonder, but Hermione was angry to learn that the old adage was woefully incorrect. It was official. Ron didn’t want her any longer. Hermione was hurt, but she had time to cry on the beach before going back to her parents. She had already told them all about her and Ron, and she didn’t want to burden them with her problems. Hermione composed a thoughtful, but very non-romantic letter, composed herself, and walked back to the home of the former Wendell and Monica Wilkins, promising herself that when she returned she would try to at least hold on to Ron as a friend.
()()()()()()()()
If it's the beaches
If it's the beaches sands you want then you will have them
If it's the mountain's bending rivers then you will have them
If it's a wish to run away then I will grant it
Ron bounced from foot to foot, barely containing his excitement. Hermione was due back any minute, and he waited not-so-patiently with Harry at his side for Hermione’s form to appear in the designated area of the International Portkey Office. He could almost feel her hair between his fingers and hear her laugh ring in his ears. Finally…finally she could be his.
When she finally appeared, Ron called out her name and bounded to her with his arms open. The smile on her face faded, and she bit the side of her lip. He pulled her against his chest, but she just patted his back and pulled away. He looked down at her, to try to read the emotions that moved across her face so freely, but he only saw an indifferent mask. He felt a small stab of foreboding in his gut.
“Where are your parents?” Harry asked, picking up Hermione’s bag.
“Oh they love Australia far too much to come back. They have already contacted a realtor to put the house here up for sale,” Hermione explained, a smile not quite reaching her eyes. “And I really don’t blame them! I loved it there.”
“When are you going back?” Harry asked. Ron began to detect a bitter taste in the back of his throat.
“I think I’ll be living there permanently when this final year of school is done. I’ve already talked to some wizards down there about becoming a research assistant,” Hermione answered, purposely avoiding Ron’s eyes.
The floor fell out from beneath Ron. He could picture Hermione ripping his heart out and doing a little dance all over it. Harry was looking back and forth between them, confusion and worry knitting his brows. Hermione looked back to him as though she would explain it later. Ron hoped that she would explain it to him. He grabbed her other bag and they made their way back to the Burrow.
When Hermione got back, she asked Mrs. Weasley if she could stay at The Burrow for the remaining month before school started. She, of course, said yes, and Ron went up to his room without another word to anyone. He cast a silencing charm, locked the door, and began to rage at his limited amount of belongings. He threw his quaffle at the wall, along with a spare beater’s bat. The bat bounced back and hit him square in the shoulder. It took a few more rebounding flying objects and bruises on Ron’s body before he realized the walls had been charmed long ago to prevent destruction resulting from rambunctious play. He sat down on his bed, not sure if he wanted to seethe or cry. He opted for the former, as the latter would be far too humiliating.
Suddenly, the door to his room was blasted off and Harry, Percy, and George all stood there with their wands drawn. Ron stood up and raised his wand against them. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he just wanted a fight. He started a stunning spell before Harry managed to get a shield charm up.
“Come on now, Ronnie, no need to be acting like a ickle firstie because your girlfwend doesn’t wuv you anymore,” George mocked. Sure, he picked THAT moment to come back himself. Ron leapt back at George, ready to take him out with a swift punch, but was thrown back by Harry’s shield.
“You two should take off,” Harry said, in a voice that seemed to intone, ‘I am the one who killed Voldemort. Leave or I’ll twist your insides.’
As soon as George and Percy were gone, Harry cancelled all the spells and began to put Ron’s room back in order. Ron just stood there, frozen in the middle of the room, and waited for his best mate to deliver the blow that would confirm the truth he had been avoiding since Hermione had returned. When Harry didn’t speak, Ron was ready to rage again.
“What the bloody hell are you doing here, Harry? Can’t you just mind your own business?” Ron asked with as much malice as he could find as the lump in his throat grew larger.
“Not really. Not where the both of you are concerned,” Harry answered calmly, sitting on the bed. “What’s going on with you two?”
“How the bloody hell should I know? She’s a nutter! She comes back and I expect things to be the way they were, like she promised, and then she barely looks at me? She’s already found a job and she’s leaving? What did I do?” Ron was shouting again.
“I asked her what was going on, she just shook her head and said it was over. I was hoping for more details,” Harry shrugged. “This all seems a little fast and inexplicable to me.”
And there were the two words that sealed Ron’s fate: It’s over. It was over. After seven years of loving her, he had blown his chance and now it was over. His best mate sat there confirming it. Ron promptly sat down on the floor and put his head into his hands. It didn’t even try to hide the tears anymore. He was shocked when Harry wrapped his arms around Ron’s shoulders, but he didn’t pull away.
()()()()()()()()
After two weeks of living under the same roof as Hermione, Ron was finally beginning to feel normal again. He could stand the deep ache in his gut, just as long as he wasn't alone with her. If Ron found himself alone with Hermione, he would make an excuse to leave. It was a terrible, and kind of cowardly plan, but it was a face-saving thing and he had no other options. If he wanted to be happy, he was going to have to learn to live with the feeling.
He could see Hermione's smile fade and her eyes water every time he dodged a conversation with her, or made a point to sit as far away from her as possible, but he didn't see what choice he had. She was the only one he wanted, and she didn't want him back. If he had to face that day in and day out, he was sure he would go mad. He could tell that Harry and the rest of his family were on to his plan, and the whispers behind their hands were an annoying price to pay. Ron had to get on with his life.
Hermione slept in Bill's room, which was on the second floor next to Ginny's. Ron was relieved she was put there, since he was all the way at the top of The Burrow, and didn't have to spend his nights awake wondering if he could hear the soft, slow sounds of her breath. As Ron pulled the covers back on his old, rickety bed, he downed a little bit of the Dreamless Sleep potion that George procured him in lieu of an apology and resigned himself to another blank, dark night of sleep without any dreams of Hermione.
About halfway through the night, the empty void of his mind was pierced by a high pitched scream. Ron tried to find the source of it, but he could not open his eyes. He felt like he was floating in darkness and there was no way out. He tried to wake up, tried to fight through the potion, but nothing seemed to be working. The scream was maddening, and he knew he had to wake up and do something about it or everything would fall apart. Suddenly, Hermione's name was shouted over the chasm in his head.
Ron sat up immediately, his bedroom coming into focus as he took deep breaths and tried to get his bearings. The screaming continued, coupled with sobs. He knew it was Hermione. Something was wrong with her. He could hear Ginny shouting her name as he bounded out of his room and down the creaky wooden steps, taking three at a time. When he got to Bill's old bedroom, everyone was crowded inside with dire looks on their face, surrounding the bed. Ron's heart began to race.
"Where is she? What's wrong?" Ron shouted, pushing his family out of the way.
"She's having some sort of nightmare, she won't wake up. She keeps screaming and crying," Ginny said, her hands not so gently slapping the sides of Hermione's face as she tossed and turned frantically in her sheets.
Ron gestured for Ginny to move and lay down on the bed next to Hermione. He didn't think about being shirtless, in his pajama bottoms, and in front of his family. He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around her writhing body. Soon, her jerking motions began to stop, and she continued to whimper and cry into the crook of Ron's neck.
"It's okay, love. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe. It's over," Ron whispered soothing words over and over again.
Hermione occasionally had nightmares since the war ended. Mostly, she would relive her torture at the hands of that mad witch Bellatrix Lestrange. However, Ron was always there, holding her tightly and comforting her. He felt an acute sense of guilt at the notion that he hadn't been there for her. She was alone all those long nights. What if she had a nightmare? Where would he be? He knew she didn't want him anymore, but that was no reason to be callous. He hated himself for ignoring her.
"Ron?" Her tiny, wary voice reverberated around the quiet room in the wake of her cries.
"I'm here, 'Mione. You're at The Burrow. It's okay." Ron said, running a hand up and down the back. "I'm not going anywhere." Ron looked up to see his family walking out of the room and Harry nodding before closing the door behind him.
“Don’t leave, Ron. Please don’t leave!” Hermione cried, shaking and gripping his arms tightly.
“I won’t leave you, love. I will always be here for you, I promise.” Ron whispered against the hair bunching around her neck. He knew he shouldn’t be making those sorts of promises to someone who didn’t love him, but he also knew he wouldn’t break a single word of them.
She fell asleep with his arms still around her shoulders. Ron was so afraid of letting go of his mind and just pretending that she was his again, that he didn’t sleep at all. He just remained there, holding her and rubbing her back until the sun came up. Then he slipped out and went downstairs in search of a distraction.
()()()()()()()
Take whatever you think of
While I go gas up the truck
Pack the old love letters up
We will read them when we forget why we left here...
Hermione woke up alone, and her heart broke even more at the sight of her empty bed and the cold feeling around her bare shoulders. It felt different last night. She felt like she was back where she belonged, with his heart beating softly against her ear. It gave her so much hope that she was terrified to wake up and find it dashed away.
And it certainly was.
Her nightmare hadn’t been the normal fare. Usually, she dreamt over and over of fiendfyre, her torture, and being chased through the woods on an endless loop. Last night, however, Hermione had dreamed of the time Ron left. Only this time, as he was leaving, he crumbled to pieces in front of her. She tried to put him back together, but she couldn’t. The scene would replay, she would beg him to stay, and he would crumble again. The metaphor wasn’t lost on her, to say the least.
She got up and took a deep breath, still smelling Ron on her skin. It had been so long since his unique scent had lingered with her that she had almost forgotten what he smelled like. Almost. He had been avoiding her like Black Death since she came back, and Hermione hadn’t had a chance to look at him for too long, let alone breathe him in. She felt bereft. She barely heard the gentle knock on her door before Harry carefully walked in.
“What was that last night?” Harry asked thoughtfully, sitting down on the bed next to her.
“It was just a terrible nightmare,” Hermione whispered.
“No, the part where you clung to Ron like it was life or death,” Harry said, his eyebrows going so high they disappeared under his shaggy hair line.
“That...um...that was,” Hermione blushed at Harry’s knowing gaze.
“You told me it was over. You told him it was over. Please don’t do this to him,” Harry said, and it looked like he was choosing his words very carefully.
“Wait. Harry? When did I tell you or Ron it was over?” Hermione asked, suddenly struck by impossibility.
“When you arrived here. I went to ask you what was going on and you said ‘it’s over’,” Harry explained.
“I wasn’t going to talk about it anymore. I was waiting for him to come to me. His letters were so distant, I assumed he didn’t want to be with me,” Hermione said, her voice getting wobbly.
“Fuck, Hermione. Ron will always want to be with you,” Harry said.
Hermione excused herself and went into the loo to splash water on her face. She looked out the window, and in the distance she could see Ron standing in the apple orchard. He was waving his wand, the apples swirling around his head as they moved from the tree to his bushel baskets. He was in just jeans and sandals, and Hermione could see the reflection of his skin in the sunlight all the way from her place in The Burrow. She wanted no more than to run her lips over his pale back. She spared herself one resolute glance and then made her way out to the orchards.
()()()()()()()()()()()
Hermione found Ron looking up at the sun with disdain as he vanished away the sweat from his body. He was still moving apples into baskets with a fierce determination that would have looked more in place on a battlefield. Hermione wondered what was really going through his head.
“Do you need a hand?” Hermione asked bravely.
“I think I have this pretty well handled here,” Ron answered without looking at her.
“It’s certainly warm,” Hermione said, ready to offer him a glass of water, pumpkin juice, pure chilled spring water from Norway if he just acknowledged her.
For a while, Ron didn’t answer. He conjured some gloves and began to pull at a dying branch on the apple tree in front of them. Hermione just stood there, watching his body shift and flex as he struggled with the tree. Finally, Ron just ripped the branch off and threw it, turning a burning gaze on her that made her shrink away slightly.
“Damnit, Hermione. Stop fucking playing with me! Just leave me alone. You made it very clear what you wanted,” Ron shouted, turning around and ripping at healthy branches with force.
“Oh really? Because I don’t recall ever stating to you-” Hermione started, feeling her own ire grow.
“Oh just shut up. I can’t do this with you. I can’t do anything with you,” Ron sounded angry, but he looked heartbroken, and Hermione felt her anger rise at that.
“Listen, Ron. You were the one who started writing me letters like you were writing to your cousin,” Hermione said, but as soon as the words left her lips, they sounded ridiculous.
“I was giving you bloody space! I thought that’s what you wanted,” Ron yelled and threw another branch. “And then you came back and it was like...like I didn’t matter at all.”
“I thought...” Hermione started, but she had no idea how to finish.
“You thought! You thought! Did you even bother to fucking ask what I thought?” Ron yelled.
“Now you listen here! I loved you! I love you. I will never bloody stop! Just because you are too asinine--” Hermione ended her diatribe there because Ron was charging toward her. But she refused to be cowed.
Suddenly, all the anger and vitriol that was swirling around seemed to vanish from Ron’s face, and he looked at Hermione so intensely that she thought she might turn to stone in front of him. He reached up and placed his hands on her face with remarkable gentleness for what the situation would have produced.
“You love me?” Ron whispered against Hermione’s lips. She could only nod.
Ron’s lips crashed against hers with force that made her knees almost give way. His hand slid to the back of her neck, and Hermione tilted her head back to deepen the kiss. She reached up and clasped her hands on Ron’s shoulders, pulling him tightly against her. She moaned slightly when his tongue moved across her lips.
He grunted when she kissed him back, running her tongue along the roof of his mouth. She loved the sounds he made when he began to come undone. She devoured him from the lips, and he came back at her with equal frenzy. He began pulling her further into the shade of the tree as they kissed.
When Ron’s erection pressed up against her centre, Hermione’s body quivered. She wanted him so badly it almost hurt. She thrust her hips against his and they both groaned. Ron began to kiss down her neck and over her jaw line as he hands creeped up her shirt.
“Someone could see,” Hermione said, before whimpering as Ron’s nimble fingers found her nipple.
“Then we better be incredibly quiet,” Ron whispered, cupping her breasts and moaning. Hermione could only whine slightly at the implication.
Hermione reached down and stroked Ron’s erection through his jeans, groaning at his long, thick cock. She wanted him inside her so badly, being outside and in his back garden suddenly didn’t matter any longer. When his fingers brushed over her sensitive lips through her jeans, Hermione only wanted them both naked immediately.
“Fuck, Hermione! Fuck...wait,” Ron moaned, resting his head on her shoulder.
“If we’re going to do this, we’re doing all of this,” Ron said, and Hermione’s heart started pounding in her chest.
“Everything Ron. I love you so much,” Hermione whispered.
“I love you too, Hermione,” Ron said, swiftly pulling her shirt over her head. Hermione wondered if she should reach for her wand to get rid of the remainder of their clothing, but Ron was looking at her like a gift to be unwrapped, and she couldn’t resist allowing him to pull her jeans and panties off in one even tug.
Ron shook his jeans and pants off, and then looked at Hermione hungrily. He put two fingers in his mouth, and Hermione groaned, longing to feel his tongue against her skin. His hot erection hovered near her abdomen, but he reached down and ran his slick fingers through her center. Parting her flesh and swirling around the sensitive nub hidden there. Hermione’s hips bucked.
“I want you right now, Hermione. Please,” Ron moaned, biting on her earlobe when he finished his plea. He plunged his fingers inside of her and Hermione had to grip his shoulders to keep from falling. She leaned slightly, and her bare back hit the trunk of the tree. She arched her hips up to take him deeper, meeting his eyes since his body was so low to get to her. Ron’s pupils nearly covered the deep blue, and Hermione could feel the desire course through her.
“Yes, Ron. Yes,” Hermione moaned, throwing her head back and exposing her throat to his nips and bites.
Ron’s throbbing cock entered in her with one swift motion, and he held himself inside of her while her body adjusted to his girth. Her walls clenched around him. She knew she would come more quickly than she ever had before, and she thrust down to feel more of his length in her body. He let out a string of expletives and began to pump himself in and out of her with quick, hard strokes.
“Oh god, Ron. More,” Hermione said, throwing her head back again. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, his hands under her arse, and her arms over his shoulders. He was holding her up, as her body had long since gone limp. She was overwhelmed and crushed at the same time with a need she thought would certainly be inconsolable.
“Come for me,love,” Ron whispered, running his lips along the shell of her ear even as he continued to thrust wildly inside of her.
She dug her nails into his back and clenched every single muscle she could as the electricity jolted through her. Her body pulsed tightly around him as wave after wave hit her hard and he continued to pound in and out at a merciless pace. When her body finally gave way in a spectacular explosion and a series of tiny quakes, Ron groaned and pressed her hard against the tree. She felt his cock twitch inside of her and the heat of his seed fill her.
They remained frozen there, Ron’s breath rapid against her neck and her feet locked together behind his back. When her body calmed enough she was able to pry her fingers from his shoulders, he hissed in pain. He pulled her up away from the tree, and it was her turn to hiss.
“Sorry,” they both said, and their voices echoed around the afternoon silence of the orchard. That was quickly followed with an awkward chuckle. She slowly unlocked her legs and he set her down gently. She reached down and grabbed her wand, casting the quickest (and gentlest) cleaning spell she could think of before awkwardly looking around for her clothes, still stuck between the tree and Ron’s body.
“I meant what I said,” Hermione whispered, looking up at him carefully. Ron looked at her with a mixture of surprise and relief that broke her heart a little more. “Ron, I’m so-”
“I meant it too, love. It’s okay,” He said, pulling her against him. She sighed and let the moment linger just a little longer.
“Never again,” Hermione whispered. Life only ever made sense when she was in Ron’s arms, and she knew she could weather anything as long as they were together.