Hermione was sitting on a bench in the corner of the great hall, her back resting against the cold stone wall hugging her knees to her chest. Harry had mumbled something about sleeping before he headed towards Gryffindor tower.
Hermione felt her eyes prickle with tears from the overwhelming memories of the last 24 hours, but kept them trained on Ron. He was still huddled around Fred’s body with his family. She noticed out of all his brothers, only Bill was taller than him now, and just barely so. He was hugging his mum while she cried into his chest. Hermione felt a pang of envy at this scene, wishing she could hug her own mum right now. Immediately she felt guilty, remembering that her family was still thankfully intact.
None of the Weasley brood seemed inclined to leave Fred’s side despite having been there for hours. Hermione didn’t care how long it took. She would wait there all night for Ron if she had to, lending her silent support while he grieved with his family.
At that moment a tiny elf appeared wearing a very old dress and brandishing a tray of sandwiches at her.
“Sandwich, miss?” She asked in her squeaky high-pitched voice.
Hermione felt the unshed tears she had been holding back fall down her face.
She knelt down in front of the small creature and enveloped her in a hug. The startled elf let out a squeak that seemed to make her whole body jump.
Hermione pulled back and looked into her enormous orb-like eyes.
“I would love one. What is your name?”
“Figgy, miss!” She said trembling all over, looking thoroughly confused.
“Thank you, Figgy. This is very kind of you,” Hermione said smiling at the elf and taking a couple sandwiches off the tray.
Figgy burst into tears sobbing loudly.
“Figgy lives to serve, miss!” She squeaked, giving Hermione a watery smile.
Hermione stood up and searched for Ron again and caught him watching her. He smiled at her warmly, but his eyes told of sadness and exhaustion. She gave him a half smile back and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, “you know how I feel about elves.”
Ron turned back to his dad and seemed to be having a serious discussion with him. At one point they both stopped talking to look at her. Mr. Weasley was nodding his head at something Ron had said, and Ron started to hug each of his family members.
Hermione turned to see a familiar boy approaching her. She recognized him from classes and knew him to be a Ravenclaw in her year. She had never talked to him, though, and didn’t know his name.
He had thick, dark brown curly hair and was currently sporting a black eye and his best winning smile.
“I’m Arty. Arty VanDevender. I know we never talked to each other, but I remember seeing you in class last year, and I was always impressed with how bright you were-
“Bugger off knobhead! She’s with me!” Ron growled behind him.
Arty spun around to find Ron glaring at him only a few feet away.
“Roon!” Hermione admonished.
Ron looked at her confused “What?” A thought seemed to occur him, and his whole face fell. “You are, aren’t you?”
Hermione beamed at him. “Of course I am. But he doesn’t know that,” she added nodding towards Arty.
Ron scowled at him again. “Well now he does,” he said with finality, staring Arty down.
“Er right. I’ll just be… going, then,” Arty said rubbing the back of his neck as he walked away looking defeated.
Hermione knew she should probably be more irritated than she was, but she could find no anger towards Ron at the moment. She was still just grateful and relieved that they had both made it out of this war alive. And now they were together.
He seemed to share her feelings because he looked immensely relieved right now.
“Hi,” he said wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her head towards him so he could kiss her hair. He took advantage of their close proximity to steal a bite of her sandwich.
“I grabbed you one too,” she said handing him his own.
“Cheers,” Ron mumbled grabbing the proffered food and taking a big bite.
“C’mon. Let’s go to bed. I’m knackered,” he said around a mouthful of sandwich.
He used his arm around her to steer Hermione towards the doors leading to the stairs.
“But, Ron, what about your family? Aren’t you going home with them?”
“Hermione, I’m not leaving you here by yourself,” he said finishing his sandwich.
“No, Hermione. You’re barking if you think I’m leaving you after tonight,” that note of finality back in his voice.
Hermione didn’t know why, but she blushed slightly at his tone. At some point in their journey up to Gryffindor tower, Ron’s arm moved off of her neck and grabbed her hand to help steer her around all of the debris in the corridors.
It was eerily quiet without all the students in the hallways, and the sun was shining brightly through the large arched windows now. They walked in silence taking it all in, absorbing the destruction of their beloved school. She knew it could be fixed, but it hurt to see it like this all the same.
Reaching Gryffindor tower and entering the common room (the fat lady hadn’t even bothered with a password, just a silent bow before admitting them) had felt like stepping back in time. It was completely untouched and memories of her years spent here flooded her brain.
They both stood there, deep in their own thoughts before Ron tugged on her hand.
“C’mon,” he said quietly leading her up to the boy’s dormitory.
There was Harry, passed out on his four poster still wearing his shoes and glasses and snoring loudly.
Hermione wordlessly removed his glasses while Ron started pulling off his shoes. She pulled the covers over him and Ron used his wand to close his curtains.
“Reckon he’ll wake up anytime soon?”
“Doubtful. This is the first time in 16 years he’s slept without an evil soul inside him.”
Ron gave a humorless laugh. “Never thought of that.”
He turned to face her and started rubbing the back of his neck nervously. They stared at each other for a moment both trying to figure out their next move. There was so much that needed to be said, but right now, none of it seemed to matter.
He shook his head in disbelief. “Fuck, Hermione!” He said as he closed the gap between them and pulled her body flush against his. He bent his head to kiss her soundly, and Hermione responded immediately.
He started walking her backwards, never taking his lips off hers until her knees bumped into a bed. This seemed to jar his attention, and he broke the kiss, panting heavily.
Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat and she waited for him to say something.
He was grinning and studying her face.
“I uh- fuck, you make me nervous,” he laughed.
She couldn’t help but giggle. “You know we just fought a war, right?” She grinned back.
“Yeah, I guess we did,” he laughed.
His nervous laughter was infectious and she found herself laughing too.
“Why is this always so hard for us?” She wanted to know, feeling his thumb rubbing her hand.
“I don’t know: because we’re both pigheaded? Because Harry and the war? Because I’m an idiot?”
“You’re not an idiot, Ron. You’ve never been an idiot. Don’t say such nonsense,” she chided him, pulling a piece of rubble out of his hair.
He brought his hand up to rub her cheek.
“Reckon I couldn’t mistake that kiss you gave me,” he said quietly, watching her face.
She felt a deep blush creep up her neck and onto her cheeks. She looked down at the floor, biting back a grin.
“I um… yes, I sort of attacked you, didn’t I?” She said refusing to make eye contact.
He gently lifted her chin up to look at him. “Best moment of my life.”
“O-of your life?” She asked him, unsure if she heard him correctly.
He pulled her closer to him. “You heard me,” he said staring her in the eyes, not a trace of doubt in his voice.
“But you messed up,” he told her gravely.
“H-how?” She asked him nervously.
“Because I’m not going anywhere, now. I’m yours, Hermione Granger, so you’re just gonna have to learn to put up with me,” he told her.
Hermione’s smile returned. “I already know how to put up with you, Ronald Weasley. I’ve got seven years of practice.”
He smirked at her, “oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Too bad you haven’t figured out how to handle me yet. Looks like I have the advantage,” she teased him, running her fingers through his fire red hair.
Ron bit back a grin and without warning he bent down and scooped her legs out from under her. Hermione had just a moment to let out a gasp before he dropped her on his bed and jumped in next to her.
Before her brain could catch up to what had just happened, he was already hovering over her, an elbow on either side of her head, one hand playing with her hair, the other back on her cheek.
Ron let out a laugh at her bewilderment. “Reckon I got all the time I want to figure it out now,” he told her leaning in slowly and kissing her softly.
He pulled back to look at her again, wearing a completely different expression now. His face was serious; his eyes were searching. Hermione could only describe it as want. He wanted her, and he was no longer trying to hide it.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he almost whispered to her.
“So do it again,” she told him, thoroughly hoping he would.
Ron didn’t have to be told twice. He brought his lips down on hers and kissed her soundly.
Hermione was in heaven. She had waited so long for this moment, it seemed like it would never come. She had felt on more than one occasion during the past year that winding up with Ron was a long shot and winning the war a complete fantasy.
But here she was, in his bed with him on top of her kissing his way down to her neck and holding her thigh on his waist.
“Fuck you are so beautiful,” he whispered between nibbling her ear.
Hermione let out an involuntary shutter.
“Y-you think I’m beautiful?” She asked in disbelief.
Ron froze mid kiss and pulled back to look at her, searching her face before asking, “You’re joking, right?”
He looked stunned and Hermione couldn’t take the scrutinizing look he was giving her. She moved her gaze to his shirt collar, and tried to think of something to say because he seemed to be waiting for a response.
“I-I mean I thought- I hoped you had feelings for me too. But I’m not blonde and I’m, um, well shorter than…some girls…” she finished lamely.
Well damn. She had finally made the ultimate move on Ron, kissing the living daylights out of him in the middle of the battle, like the strong, fearless woman she wanted him to see in her. And now, here she was, babbling like an idiot.
“I prefer brunettes,” he finally said, ending the awkward silence that had followed her words.
She looked him in the eyes again. “You do?”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Yeah. Bushy haired brunettes. With lots of attitude and big brains.”
“That sounds oddly specific,” she grinned back.
“What can I say? I know what I like,” he shrugged sliding down her body and lifting the hem of her shirt to expose her belly to him. He let out a groan and goosebumps broke out all over her body. He started half licking, half kissing her stomach and Hermione started hyperventilating.
Across the room, Harry snorted loudly behind his curtains. They both froze and looked in his direction. When he didn’t make anymore noise, Ron slid up Hermione’s body and reached over her to grab his wand. He pointed it at his own bed, closing and silencing the curtains and muttering something that sounded a lot like “cockblocking git” under his breath.
Tossing it back on his bedside table, he looked down at her again. She felt her breath catch in her throat, and saw him hesitate. “Hermione, I- shit I should slow down. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want, you know. I’m sure you’re knackered. We can just get some sleep for now, yeah?”
Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed on his chest hard until he fell backwards. She swung her leg over his waist to straddle him.
Ron looked stunned, holding his hands halfway in the air, unsure of what to do with them,
“I’ll let you know when I’m ready to go to sleep, Ronald Weasley,” she told him bossily. Ron watched her as she quickly unhooked her bra behind her back and pulled both shirt and undergarment over her head.
He groaned loudly at the sight of her. “Yes, ma’am,” he said huskily and Hermione felt a wave of pleasure course through her body at his choice of words. His hands came up to knead her breasts and her eyes closed at the sensation.
She felt disoriented as he flipped them while she still had her eyes shut. He bent down and slowly licked her nipple. Hermione cried out in surprise.
Ron looked up at her. “Is that okay?” He almost whispered.
Hermione could only nod her head. Something snapped inside her, and suddenly everything was moving too slow. She reached down and grabbed his shirt, trying desperately to pull it over his head. Ron took the hint and sat back to finish what she had started.
She took in his pale skin, his shoulders dusted with freckles. She studied the brain scars that curved around his muscular arms. Hermione felt a blush creep up her cheeks and butterflies in her stomach. She always knew Ron was strong, but seeing him like this made her heart skip a beat. A pang of possessiveness came over her. This man was hers, all hers. And she would make sure of that.
“Hermione?” Ron asked unsure. Her eyes snapped up to his brilliant blue ones. He was smiling at her uncertainly.
She must have been staring. “Ron I- she couldn’t get the words out, but she had to, she thought as she reached out to touch his chest tentatively. He had to know how beautiful he was.
“I-I always knew you were handsome, I just um…” she didn’t know how to do this.
Ron’s ears turned bright red, and he crawled back over to her to kiss her, pushing her back down with his body. Hermione felt drunk as she surrendered to the sensation of pure bliss.
She broke the kiss. “Ron,” she said simply grabbing his hand and directing it to the button of her jeans. He froze again, studying her face.
“I want you,” she told him, holding his gaze, willing him to understand.
His hand curled around the band of her jeans, as if trying to gain some control.
“Are- are you sure?” He asked softly.
“More than anything,” Hermione told him, grabbing his face and bringing it down to her level, kissing him hard.
Ron worked diligently to rid them of their clothes, stopping to check again if this was what she wanted.
“Yes!” Hermione told him enthusiastically, pulling his shoulders toward herself, urging him on.
And Ron took her for his own, making sure she knew exactly what he felt for her. And Hermione accepted all he had to offer, matching his love and meeting it with her own. They fought, like they always did, to prove themselves worthy to the other, to make a point. But this time, their point was the same. This time their fight had turned into a dance. They held on tight as they pushed each other to the brink and then fell over the edge together.
That was it. From now on, they would fight all their battles together, side by side because that’s what you did with your person.
“Err um, Ron? Mate? You awake?” They froze, having been drifting off in sated contentment, lying in each others arms.
Ron reached for his wand on the dresser. And irritably broke the silencing charm.
“Bugger off, Harry!” Hermione and Ron called in unison from behind Ron’s curtains.
“Err yep. Right then. I’ll just…” Harry’s voice trailed off sounding more distant with each word, probably fleeing the room as quickly as he could, thought Hermione.
“Come here,” Ron said to Hermione, pulling her close.
“You know, we should have just been Neville’s best mates growing up. Much less drama,” Hermione cheeked.
Ron grinned at her. “Much less,” he agreed drifting off to sleep.
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