100 Days of R/Hr: Day 16
Prompt: Hermione’s 19th birthday
Prompted by: ObsessedRHShipper
So, I don’t know what happened, but life encroached on me from all angles, and I have barely proofread this, I wrote most of it at delirious hours of the night, and there could very well be all sorts of odd mistakes (and I normal just naturally Britpick myself fairly okay as I’m writing, but I have less faith in myself than usual because I haven’t had time to be thorough, so please feel free to call me on it if I screwed up)... and I definitely left in a really dirty thing that I questioned just before I typed it and then intentionally didn’t go back to read it again so I wouldn’t chicken out of leaving it there, but it’s just so subtle that you might miss it anyway...
But that brings me to the warning about this containing SMUT.
Also, I hate Tumblr. Formatting a gigantic chunk of copy-pasted text is HELL, and who knows what this will look like on the app, and just... yeah. I did my best, guys. *sobbing*
I am existing on coffee and very few hours of sleep right now, but I’m just so relieved that I am finally able to celebrate Hermione’s birthday, four days late, and move on with life!! :D
Hope you enjoy this (way longer than a drabble) fic! x
"...fucking bollocks..." Hermione dropped the quill she was holding, eyes darting to the tall, diamond-paned window to her right. Moonlight reflected off the glass, and she noticed, for the first time that evening, that a chilly draft was wafting through the crack, where someone had evidently left the latch undone. But she was entirely alone in the library at this hour…
She really had heard him. Or had she finally gone mad? She reached for her wand, barely breathing.
"Bloody hell-" "Ron?!" she hissed, standing abruptly from her table and moving closer to the window, in her socks. There was a long, silent pause. And then, a bright blue eye appeared in the crack between the window and its frame. "Hey." She jumped back as she gasped, clutching her wand in a white-knuckled fist. "What are you doing?!" she whispered fiercely, moving forward again as she comprehended his actual presence, jaw dropping. "Happy... -shit!" He struggled with something, and then his palm slapped suddenly to the window, swinging it inward. "Right," he said, revealing his full body, standing in the brambly bushes outside the sill. "Happy birthday." He grinned at her, jeans caught in several places on large thorns, hair swept far to the side across his forehead, arm raised above his head to keep the window open, which pulled his green jumper up his body on that same side, revealing a strip of pale skin and the black elastic of his pants above his belt.
She stared at the sight before her for a moment, speechless. And then, she burst out laughing, pocketing her wand, eyes watering as she darted forward, throwing her arms around his neck and nearly tumbling out through the window altogether. He steadied her by tightly wrapping his left arm around her waist and leaning forward to keep them from overbalancing into the shrubbery. "I can't believe you're here," she mumbled happily against his neck. He took in a deep breath, nose buried in her hair. And he must have gotten distracted, because the window began to swing slowly shut. Hand seizing at her back, he lifted his head and pushed forward again. "Sorry!" she whispered urgently, removing her arms from around his neck and balancing fully back on her own feet again. "No one else's in here, yeah?" he asked, glancing past her into the dark library. "No, l’m alone. Ginny got me permission from Madame Pince to be here all night, on my own, as a birthday present, and I-”
But she broke off, eyes widening. "She knew!" Ron shrugged, his smile slowly spreading. "You planned this out so I'd be the only one here when you arrived, didn't you!" "Maybe..." With a terrible ripping noise, he yanked his right leg free from thorns, hoisted himself through the open window, and tugged his left leg to follow, wincing. He reached around and shut the window, latching it and smirking down at her. "Only you would consider an all night pass to the library the best birthday present ever." "No," she said, smiling shyly back at him, "this is the best birthday present ever." She glanced down his body and slowly returned her eyes to his, fighting a strong urge to flush crimson. His expression had turned quite dreamy, candlelight flickering in his pupils. "I know it's only been three weeks, but I've, uh, missed you a good bit more than I've admitted," he said, quietly. She nodded, sniffing. "Me too."
They stared at each other for a moment, in silence, before he cleared his throat.
"What do you want to do now?" He toed off his trainers and picked them up, walking past her to stow them under her table.
"What do you mean?"
“Well… we've reached the end of the part that I’d planned out…”
She pressed her lips together, amused.
“So, we can do whatever you want,” he continued, as he stood to his full height again. “I can revise an essay, or copy down notes, or read a section of the library aloud..." Eyes widening, she coughed lightly, caught between laughing at his list and thinking it was far more brilliant sounding than she probably should admit.
"No one's coming back tonight. Madame Pince left and locked me in ages ago..." she explained, licking her lips.
"Right," he said, before clearing his scratchy throat. She'd been mentally plotting an excuse about his torn jeans and the possibility of minor injuries from his run-in with the foliage outside, but the longer she stood a metre away from him, heart pounding, the less it mattered whether or not she was completely obvious about it. He'd shown up, at midnight, without a plan. He'd definitely been expecting her to take advantage of him... one way or another.
“So…” he urged, staring almost shyly down at her. "Oh, forget this," she sighed, moving forward. She tilted her head back as she approached him, and he gazed down at her, so close to touching... but not quite. He lifted one eyebrow, the corner of his mouth… and then, his hands reached up and cupped her face, and he ducked to kiss her. She sighed out relief, flowing between his parted lips as his hands moved down, past her shoulders, fingers spreading wide as he slid them down her back, left hand pressing to the arch above her arse, forcing her stomach flat against his as his left hand suddenly moved back up to tangle in her hair. She reached up under the back of his jumper and shirt, shivering at the wonderful feeling of his warm, bare skin against her hands. His tongue ran between her lips, and she felt his hands trembling against her. She puffed out a tiny squeak, attempting to remain on her toes to reach him. But her right leg lifted off the ground as his teeth lightly nibbled her bottom lip, and she needed to be much, much closer to him. Wrapping her heel around his calf, she forced their hips together, eliciting a shuddering groan from him in response… He pulled his lips impossibly slowly away from hers, panting lightly and clenching his eyes shut as she grabbed a hold of one of his back belt loops, fingers splaying so half her hand was resting over the top of his arse, holding him quite still... and quite close. She breathed in a sort of ragged series of gasps as he copied her motion, sliding the hand at her back down, down, over the rounded swell of her own arse. Two breaths later, he slid his hand back up, under her shirt, stopping at her bra, and she brushed her nose against his as she dropped her foot from his calf and moved back enough to focus on his eyes as he opened them. He slid his left hand out of her hair, down along her collarbone, until the tip of his index finger was trailing the collar of her shirt, feathering to her top button. She tilted her head back and exhaled slowly, eyes locked on his as he moved his right hand to join his left, working the first button free… then the second, the third... And then, he stopped, taking a step back... and he dropped to his knees in front of her. “Ron, what…” she laughed, in a fluttery, nervous sort of way. Three weeks apart really was feeling like an eternity, and a part of her was drowning in that same excited anxiousness that had traveled with her for at least the first half of the summer.
Looking down at him, she held her breath for a moment, his head level with her breasts, which were currently heaving against her bra. He quickly unbuttoned her last three buttons, opening her shirt, eyes raking over her body, raising her temperature…
Pressing his lips lightly to the skin just below her bra, he looked up and met her eyes, shadows streaking across his face, in contrast to the lantern light that splashed in his eyes and fringe. She was caught staring back at him, unable to look away. It was mental, really, knowing that he loved her, like everything suddenly looked so much different. Or did it? Was it only her perspective that had changed? He had looked at her so many different ways, over the years before, conveying a wealth of hidden emotions she was either too afraid to risk believing or had simply not viewed correctly.
He kissed her stomach, open-mouthed, as his hands spread wider over her sides. His nose caught on the bottom edge of her bra, and he pulled back.
“We’re doing this in the Hogwarts library,” he grinned, and she recalled him mentioning a particular fantasy about this, to which she had concurred… only she’d never expected to actually do it. Her heart was pounding, fear of being caught somewhere pulsing in the back of her mind. But he was right there. Was she honestly supposed to tell him to stop?
“Come on,” she suggested, tugging him gently by the hair and smiling. “We can go deeper into the shelves at least so we’ll have time to stop if someone does come back…” She cleared her throat, and he stood.
“What?”
“I keep thinking I'm someone who doesn't break rules, don't I, but how often has that actually been true? Just because I'm clever about how to do it doesn't mean we aren't still breaking them…”
He stared at her in contemplation for a moment before grinning.
“That's a good point…”
She took his hand, tugging him further back into the stacks, away from the windows, well out of view of the front doors. When she stopped and turned to face him, he was staring at her with a strange sort of expression she couldn't place.
“What?” she asked him, quietly.
“Hm? Nothing,” he smiled back, running a hand through his hair to move it off his forehead. The result was an amusing puff of ginger at the top of his head before his fringe slowly fell down again. She gave up questioning the way he was obviously hiding something from her, opting instead to focus on the way her stomach flipped with happiness, familiarity. Sometimes he was just so perfectly who she wanted that she was overwhelmed, all over again. And why was it always the most ridiculous things, like his hair, or the lopsided curve of his mouth just now as he grinned at her?
She took his hand again and walked two steps further backward before tugging him down to sit on the floor, hidden by high rows of books, dark shadows washing over them, far away from the nearest lit lantern. Wrapping her hands around his forearms, she pulled him in closer until his mouth was on hers again, one of his hands finding her bare side under the shirt she was still half-wearing. His tongue ran between her lips, and her body tensed with pleasure before she couldn’t help herself and was climbing into his lap, widening her legs to push her half-bare chest against his, recalling that he was still fully dressed. Pushing up on her knees, she dragged her mouth away from his, panting slightly as her hands slid up his neck to hold his face.
Sighing shakily, she scrambled at the back of his jumper, half clawing it up his body. He reached back to help, tugging the collar at the base of his neck. And they managed to pull it over his head, messy ginger hair emerging with a static fizz as she dropped the jumper to the floor and returned immediately to his mouth. His body was so warm through his thin, cotton shirt, and a part of her was hardly comprehending how far she was really letting this go, in the middle of the bloody library, but the rest of her was too consumed by what they were doing to care.
Feeling his erection through his jeans, she rubbed herself against him, arching slightly into his chest as he groaned, vibrations moving up from the back of his throat. His hands shot down to hold her hips, but she did it again, causing him to rip his mouth away from hers, wrap an arm around her waist tightly, and lean backward. For a moment, she was thrown off guard by his movement, his elbow supporting his weight as he dropped to his back. But then, he rolled sideways and flipped them over so she was lying on her back on the thick rug in the centre of the aisle, his body covering hers as he leaned over her and sucked on her neck. She gasped and tilted her head further back to give him better access, parting her thighs and bending her knees so his body fit perfectly between her legs. She angled her hips against him and arched closer, but instead of his usual move of reciprocating and pressing down into her, he slid his mouth down her neck, down between her breasts, and sat up between her knees.
She wanted to call him back down on top of her… until his long fingers pinched her nipples through her thin, cotton bra. She closed her eyes, tiny squeaky sounds emanating from her parted lips, but she was too distracted by sensation to feel embarrassed. She’d nearly moved past this anyway, realising a while back that he loved the sounds she made, which, at the time he’d admitted it, really only made her blush a deeper shade of burgundy…
As his hands moved down, she cracked open her eyes, but then his fingertips were sliding up her bare torso to the bottom edge of her bra, and it was incredibly fortunate both that she was wearing the sort of bra that clasped in the front and that he had become familiar with it over the summer, because he made quick work of it and peeled the cups off to either side to expose her chest. She ran her hands up his denim-covered thighs, and he sucked in a breath through his nose, reaching down to loosely hold her wrists in both hands as he stared. And then, leaning forward, her chilled skin was warmed by his hot breath... preceding his lips, which attached to the bottom swell of her right breast, open-mouthed and working his way up as she clenched a fist in his hair. His tongue flicked out as he reached her nipple, and she trembled as he stretched out between her legs again, supporting himself on his forearms.
“Ron,” she whispered, too constricted by her skirt and knickers and hoping he could somehow understand what she wanted, all from the way she’d said his name.
He figured out enough to start with, anyway, reaching up under her skirt and hooking a finger over the elastic of her knickers, pulling them down as he climbed out from between her legs to rid her of them completely. Now, he was absolutely overdressed. But, rather than rectify it for her, he repositioned himself between her legs, glided his hands up her bare thighs and back down… She opened her mouth to ask him to come closer, but he spoke before she could free the words.
"Hermione..." Sensing his hesitation, she froze and held his gaze. "What's wrong?" "I love you." Her heart seized, fluttering at his voice around the words she hadn't heard in nearly three weeks.
“That's what's wrong?” she whispered.
"Hell, no. Nothing's wrong. Just... wanted you to know, in case you forgot." "I love you, too," she smiled. "Brilliant,” and he grinned, ducking and kissing his way down her stomach, lifting her skirt again as his head dropped between her legs.
Her instinctive reaction was to gasp and flinch at his sudden contact with her extremely sensitive skin. But she knew he must be used to this by now, because his response was to tug her legs over his shoulders and spread his hands across her hips and use more tongue…
She lifted her gaze to the ceiling high above, heavily book-laden shelves rising on either side of them, but she had to clench her eyes shut as his hands moved up her body again to cover her breasts. She felt his teeth graze across her, and she really couldn't take it any more.
Reaching down, she gripped his biceps and pulled. He lifted his head to acknowledge her briefly before attaching his mouth to her inner thigh. Moaning her frustration, she raked her nails across his skin, and he lightly bit her before dragging his open mouth up the crease between her thigh and hip.
“Ron,” she whispered, his head bobbing on her stomach as she shifted under him.
He was ignoring her insistent suggestions, and she was more than a little ready for him to be naked and covering her whole body...
“What are you doing?” she sighed, half-frustrated and half-confused. He lifted his head again.
“What’d’you mean?” His hand froze on her chest, and he blinked up at her.
“You're way down there.”
“I was trying to, y’know… just do stuff for you.”
She finally noticed how red his cheeks and ears were and how rapid his breathing had become. This was a completely absurd turn of events. He was restraining himself because he thought this was what she wanted?
“What?” was the only word she could manage, as she pushed up onto her elbows to see him properly.
“It's your birthday,” he said in a deep, raspy voice.
“I'm aware.”
He shrugged, evidently deeming that statement enough to explain himself.
“But I want you to come up here,” she said.
He licked his lips, and his forehead creased.
“Just thought it might be nice if I, dunno, only did stuff for you.”
She was too filled with lust to accurately think this through, but a part of her was momentarily horrified before she settled in the knowledge that he couldn't possibly-
“There's no way you think I only have sex with you for your benefit.”
“No,” he laughed. “I know you like it-”
“Like it?!”
The countless times she had instigated shagging him throughout the summer flashed through her memory.
“Yeah, alright,” he smirked.
But she was piecing things together a bit, some distant part of her also finding it comical to be having this sort of conversation with him still lying between her legs, her shirt completely open.
“Because it's my birthday, you think you're being selfish?”
He hesitated for a second before shrugging again.
“That’s-” but she cut herself off, realising the truth. “No, I'm not surprised, actually. That’s so like you…”
His flushed ears may have darkened a shade, but it was impossible to tell for sure in the dim light. She suddenly knew what she wanted to express, but she had no idea how.
“I can't explain it properly, but… everything's better when you like it, too…”
He must have comprehended the gist, because his gaze softened considerably.
“To be fair, this is bloody amazing already, and I was liking it just fine…” His lips twitched toward an amused grin. “Reckon this is why blokes buy girls jewelry…”
She laughed, shaking her head.
“...which I may have also done,” he added, just a bit shyly, and her eyebrows shot up.
“You didn’t.”
“I know it's not that creative,” he said, as he pushed her leg off his shoulder and crawled up to lie on his side next to her, “but I've never really bought you a proper gift-”
“Perfume,” she said quickly, and he half rolled his eyes.
“Dunno if that counts.”
“Of course it counts.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head, smiling as she turned onto her side to face him.
“You really bought me jewelry?” she asked, in a small voice. She was never one to care about romantic gifts, but something about him buying her a very specifically non-practical thing made her lightheaded.
“Yeah,” and he opened his eyes, staring across at her. “But I hid the box in my trainer when I took them off at your table. Didn't want to forget about it in my pocket and crush it.”
“Oh my God, I'm so curious.”
She'd probably have abandoned their previous activities completely for long enough to find out what he'd bought her if he'd still had it within easy reaching distance...
“I’d lower your expectations if I were you,” he said. “It's not that amazing…”
But he truly could never understand that it didn't have to be extravagant or clever. It was amazing simply because it came from him. Whatever it was, she already loved it and would probably never take it off...
“I’d go look now, but I'm not properly dressed for standing in front of windows…” She chewed her bottom lip as he grinned, eyes flicking down and back up to her face.
“Speaking of that, reckon this is the longest conversation we've ever had while you've been half naked…”
“So, maybe we should stop talking…”
She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek, and he grinned in that slightly deliriously happy way that made her feel like her heart was going to explode. He sat halfway up on his forearm to move closer, and she hooked her arm around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her again.
Within seconds, her hands were under his shirt, and she was relieved that he was no longer resisting at all as she gathered thin cotton in her fists, working it up his sides. He finally sat up completely to rip the shirt over his head and toss it behind him. A hazy thought about how oddly endearing she found the way he always threw his clothes aside at random tried to formulate, but he attached his mouth to the sensitive skin in front of her ear, dragging his parted lips down the curve of her neck, and all coherence vanished. She wrapped a leg around his waist and pulled him further on top of her, instantly overcome by the feeling of his naked upper body pressing down on hers.
As his mouth covered hers again, she reached down to help with his belt, the sounds of metal and leather floating between the inconsistently spaced noises of kissing and shaky moans. Her body felt suddenly far too warm, yet she would happily stay underneath him like this for approximately forever… especially now that his fingers were moving between her legs. She shuddered against his lips, and he lifted his head to swallow and breathe. He may have been about to speak, but she interrupted his train of thought completely by pushing down his pants and wrapping her small fingers around him. His eyes snapped shut for a second, until he slowly regained the use of his voice.
“S’not been long enough now that this’ll hurt you again, y’think?” he slurred, in a slightly drunk sounding way, and he opened his eyes again.
“No,” she said, fibbing slightly, as she really didn't know the answer to his question, but she didn't want to give him a single reason to hold back.
As she stared up into his eyes, he removed his wet fingers from between her legs and tapped the back of her hand with his knuckles. She let go of him, he replaced her hand with his own, and she felt her stomach flip with a silent understanding of why he'd done what he'd done, mounting to wonderfully nervous anticipation of what he would do next.
As he ducked to kiss her again, he braced himself more heavily on his free arm, which she noticed was trembling slightly, just before his lips dragged back away from hers enough for him to suck in a sharp breath as he slid inside her. He muttered a series of mostly unintelligible curse words as she arched tighter to his chest and bent her knee higher up his hip, moaning airily with each exhale. She'd almost forgotten exactly how good it felt. He seemed to be having a similar problem as his now-free right hand searched for hers, gripping tightly once they found each other, threading their fingers together as he attempted a rhythm while simultaneously trying to kiss her, which resulted in his open mouth skipping from the corner of hers to her cheek.
Her skirt was bunched at her waist, and her knuckles were somewhat painfully pressing into the floor with the weight inflicted down from his palm, but it was all so perfect that she realised she might actually cry if she didn't get it under control quickly. It had happened twice before, just before the end, and she'd had a difficult time explaining to him that he was worrying about absolutely nothing and that she was only crying from the sheer overwhelm of building up to something for years, finally having it, and it being better than she could have ever imagined.
She didn't want to spend a single second watching him worry again, so she closed her eyes and breathing unsteadily through her mouth and focused on every physical feeling as her nerves built strongly between her legs, shocks of mounting tension low in her abdomen, and his teeth scraped pleasurably across her jaw as he finally released her hand to half-claw at the rug as he finished a few seconds after she did. She only realised she was holding her breath when she felt his hot, shaky exhale against her neck and her legs dropped like jelly to the floor.
The tip of his nose rubbed adorably against her ear before he slid most of the way off of her, left arm still half-draped across her stomach, hand dangling over her hip. She wiggled her trapped left arm out from under him so she could reach up and rake her fingers through his hair. He lazily blinked at her and smiled.
“Sort of doesn't seem fair,” he mumbled against her shoulder, “since this is exactly what I want for my birthday.”
“I can buy you jewelry, too.”
He laughed and snuggled the tiniest bit closer to her before shifting around in frustration.
“Jeans are all twisted…” he muttered, releasing her and standing up.
She watched with slightly glazed eyes as he straightened his pants and zipped his jeans before giving up on the belt and yanking it out to join his jumper and shirt on the floor. But before he could settle next to her again, she sat up and clasped her bra shut, remembering something.
“What were you hiding earlier?”
“Huh?”
He sat in front of her, confused, and she licked her bottom lip, knowing it must not be terribly important if her question hadn't been enough to remind him.
“You had a strange look, like you were thinking about something serious, and you didn't explain it.”
“Oh.” He scratched his ear and shrugged. “Wasn't hiding anything. Just felt like a prat.”
“Why?”
“Dunno. Sometimes it's just sort of… hard to believe you're real. I know that sounds mental…”
He shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin. It took her a second to catch her breath again to speak.
“No. I feel the same way about you,” she said in a small voice, smiling back.
He scooted closer and took her hand, and she found it incredibly endearing that he kept his eyes down on their clasped fingers, like he could still find a way to be shy after what they'd just done.
“How long can you stay?” she asked, at a near-whisper.
“As long as you want. Or… until Madame Pince comes and chucks me out…” He grinned at her again, but she was reminded, for a second, of how much trouble they could get into if they were caught.
“I could actually get expelled…”
“Nah, if we get dressed, reckon I could easily convince anyone this was my fault and you had nothing to do with it… which is true.”
“Got to get dressed, anyway, so I can see what you bought me!”
An excited little flutter danced in her stomach at the way his ears reddened a bit as he let go of her hand to find his shirt.
An hour later, she was leaning back against the corner juncture between two tall bookshelves, clothed in his jumper and her skirt, the thin, silver chain of a necklace visible as it angled over her collarbone before it vanished beneath his jumper collar. He was sitting cross-legged in front of her, one of her bare feet in his lap and the other in his hands as he worked his fingers almost absentmindedly up and down the arch, eliciting the occasional small sigh of pleasure from her, in between words. They were in the middle of an argument over whether or not Ron had ever returned the library’s copy of Quidditch Through the Ages after he borrowed it for the fourth or fifth time, in 1993, and to say that she'd never had a better birthday would be a serious understatement.