Bloody hell, mate. @weasley-bro - Tumblr Blog

thetruedraconis-deactivated2015

More story time - Draco’s POV

(This hits off from the point Draco arrives in Paris and is at the Eiffel Tower. He is rather unaware of the fact that itsmeharryjp followed him)

The sun cast an almost otherworldly glow onto the Seine as Draco leaned against a bannister and breathed in the smell of the city, listening to pigeons squawking and people chattering on. He closed his eyes and just took it all in for a moment. He had missed this, had missed the bright, beautiful, pulsating city. Draco’s grandmère Arabella had hugged him close as he arrived at Gare du Nord after a rather long ride and ushered him to her mansion at the edges of the city. After he had disposed of his luggage, he had gone outside, to enjoy the city he loved and to clear his head from the constant fog it had been in from the moment Harry had left.

Harry… the name gave him a rather sharp sting and he blinked, biting his lip, determinedly trying to not think about his ex-boyfriend, scrolling through the pictures he had taken with his phone. Pictures of them laughing together, leaning against each other, one of Harry on the field from the game, even the picture of their hands entwined after their first night together. He kind of wanted to chuck his phone into the river but refrained.

A young woman sashayed up to him, her dark curls perfectly coiffed, her green eyes shining. Was the universe mocking him now? She was of course dressed to the nines, wearing high heels and delicate jewelry, her face ever so slightly accentuated with make-up. He didn’t want to talk but his French was rather rusted so why not talk to her?

The young woman looked at the guy in front of her, the guy who reminded her so much of a character she had once read about. He looked like something straight out of a fairytale or a model magazine, skin as white as snow and hair like starlight. He was clad in designer clothing, a royal yellow, almost golden scarf around his neck that added to the illusion of him being the grown-up version of her favourite book character. “Excuse me…” she tried, first in French because he seemed French enough with his demeanor. He looked at her and nearly took her breath away. Eyes the colour of smoke, of fog and stardust, eyes that her grandmother had always described as ‘Black family’ eyes. But there was something amiss in his eyes as he smiled a tentative smile that didn’t quite reach them. They looked as if someone had pulled a cloud over the stars, as if someone had dimmed the light and the happiness in them.

Draco sighed under his breath as the young lady, Liliane Belgarde, struck up a conversation with him and gesticulated as the Southern people were prone to. But he had missed the easiness and the beauty of the French language as it caressed his tongue like a long lost lover. His phone, that had lost its connection during the ride suddenly vibrated in his pocket but he payed it no mind. Blaise knew about his leaving and the one he secretly wanted to call him was on his way to Romania anyway. Liliane rambled on, smiling sweetly, her lips in an appealing arch. In another world where Draco wasn’t anything but straight and still in love with an aggravating, ridiculous Gryffindor, she would have been someone he could have fallen for.

“Someone here is calling for you, Monsieur Malfoy.” Liliane stated, having exchanged first names with the lovely young gentleman who had a very slight to none British accent in his wonderful French. He was the grandson of Arabella Malfoy, the imposing, elegant lady who shopped at Fauchon, where the French girl worked, sometimes showing up with her brigade of sophisticated, old ladies and servants. She heard a shout again and looked around for the caller. “It sounds rather frantic and desperate.”

Draco turned around to listen to the crowd and indeed there was someone calling him from a distance. But as big as the distance was, he knew the voice. And grew very angry. Couldn’t he nurse his broken heart in peace? Couldn’t he have salvation for one moment, no matter how small? “Harry…” he whispered, cringing at how much he was shaking, at how hopeful he sounded. He was here… “Can you pinch me?” he asked the dark-haired girl who blinked but promptly complied, her face rather confused. He hissed as he felt the pinch of her perfectly manicured nails and opened his eyes to the same scenery as before, a young man with tousled black hair coming closer and closer.

“Shall I leave?” Liliane asked, fidgeting slightly and watching them both. It was very peculiar to watch the light but also anger return to Draco’s eyes as the young man was finally there, panting slightly, his breathing ragged. “Draco..” he wheezed, taking a deep breath and Liliane decided to stay. If that was the guy her new friend had left Britain for, that young man would get a piece of her mind. After he had talked to Draco of course. Who suddenly looked like the very impersonation of ice, the scarf flapping imposingly around his figure as the sun slowly began its descend.

“How very convenient, Potter, that you arrive here only shy of two hours after I have arrived.” Draco drawled, tapping a rhythm onto a lamp post and looking at Harry with one raised eyebrow, his very demeanour screaming hurt and anger, but a very cold sort of both. He was very much like his mother in these parts. Hiding his pain and his heartbreak behind walls of ice. “Do you have any explanation as to why you aren’t in Romania right now, gallivanting amongst dinosaur bones and second oldest Weasley child?” he asked, his tone mocking and icy, trying to ignore Harry’s guilt ridden look.

Potter… or whatever the young man was called stuttered for a few seconds, then he caught himself, his gaze determined. “I am here to say sorry. And to win you back. Because I still… I still… I love you. And I wanted to apologise to you. I misinterpreted your friendship with Blaise but you made out with him on one point and I felt like being played with and I absolutely hate that but I am so sorry for not telling you that I was planning to leave because I thought a clean beak would be easier and…” he rambled, the words rushing out of his mouth, almost tumbling into each other in their haste to reach the blond man, whose icy walls seemed to melt the slightest bit.

“I don’t have time for empty words. I say I love my tailor but you don’t see me living with him, do you?” Draco queried, his voice still frigid, unknowingly repeating the words his mother had said. “I want proof that you still give a fuck before you take the next train back to England and fly off to the land of bears and hide instead of straight out admitting that you don’t…” His voice wobbled a bit at the last word and he took a deep breath to calm himself, closing his eyes and reopening them at Lilliane’s gasp. Harry was kneeling in front of him, his face very very nervous but very determined. The sun was slowly setting in the background and giving this scene a rather romantic glow.

Liliane began to fan herself to stop her eyes from watering at the sight of them both. Instead she listened on, fidgeting and biting her lip, both praying and dreading for Draco’s answer. The dark-haired young man looked up at her new friend who looked flabbergasted, his mouth slightly open in surprise and started to speak. “Draco, I … there is no way I could possibly tell you how sorry I am. But I meant it. As long as I am alive, I will be there for you. Even though I don’t deserve your forgiveness and could hit myself for being such a major fucking asshole, I … I wanted to ask you if I could get a second chance and if it is possible to prolong this second chance to forever?” he asked, blinking and staying perfectly still, waiting for Draco to answer his question. “Will you marry me and make me the happiest undeserving asshole on this planet?”

weasley-bro

OOC// I AM SCREAMING OH MYGOD LOTTIE, LEX, YOU GUYS ARE MURDERING ME I’M SO HAPPY FJDKLSAJFDAHGAJFDAJ

OOC// k guys here it is.

MASSIVE FLUFF WARNING WITH A LOVELY SECTION OF SMUT. So this took place on Saturday, after they’re bookstore/ice cream date where they kissed again and decided to be together. Hermione had to leave for her meeting, and this starts when her meeting is over and she’s on her way over to Ron’s. (Also, Lex, we took the liberty to decide Harry was out of the room, probably with Draco or Neville. He left when Ron told him she was coming over, to give them privacy). It starts with hermiones-corner (Andie) and we switch our POVs back and forth like usual. ----------------------- Hermione's meeting went horribly. It's the editorial board, where the staff of the Opinions page pitch their editorial ideas for the next couple of issues. That's the easy part, though, as the second half of the meeting is spent planning the Staff Editorial for the week, that no one signs, so it can be as controversial as they want it to be. The staff this week picked a particularly controversial topic and writing the article took *hours.* Like, four hours. Normally, Hermione wouldn't mind - she loves the debate and figuring out the best way to call people (usually school administrators) out, but she had more important things on her mind.

Namely, Ron. Earlier in the afternoon, Hermione decided to lay caution to the wind and just go for it with Ron. The worst thing that could happen if they tried to date and it didn't work out would by that Hermione would lose her best friend. but the payoffs, if it did, were so much better. By giving in to her everlasting feelings for Ron, she finally gets the boy she's loved (but don't tell him that, not yet) for years and years. She's so fucking excited, she can't handle it. (And Hermione Granger does not curse lightly.) So she needed the meeting to be over.

It ends at 7:45. The staff ordered dinner once they realized it was going to be a long one. Hermione, normally patient as anyone, was livid when the delivery was supposed to come in 30 minutes but came in 60, because she needed to *leave*. When the meeting is over, she passes the job of locking up (which she always does) to her associate editor, and runs back to Ron's as fast as she can.

She lets herself in to their building (of course she has a key) but knocks when she gets to the front. Ron looks a little confused when he opens the door.

"Hey, 'Mione," he greets, big smile on his face. "Why'd you knock? You never knock."

Hermione didn't even realize she was doing something out of the ordinary - she's really flustered! "Oh, I don't know, Ron, had a rough meeting, I guess."

He frowns when he fully takes her in and decides to solve the problem of stressed Hermione like he often does, with a big bear hug. Hermione's whole body tingles as she presses up against him, and suddenly, a hug's not enough. She turns her head upwards without letting go, til her face (her mouth) is just inches from him. Ron's eyes study her, trying to pour into her soul. It's a bit too much for right now, she knows they need to talk, knows they need to figure it out. But for the first time ever, pretty much, Hermione doesn't want to talk right now and figure things out. So she leans in, closes the distance between them, and kisses him again.

It's a fairly chaste kiss, as kisses go, but once again, it's perfect. Hermione could do this for the rest of her life. 'Maybe you can,' that unhelpful voice in the back of her head pipes up.

Ron pulls away, breathless, before Hermione can deepen the kiss into something more. "I can't believe you just did that," Ron marvels.

"Was that not okay?" Hermione asks, scared she did something wrong.

"No, 'Mione, it was wonderful, perfect. I just - ahh, can't believe I get to kiss you now."

Oh. Hermione can't help but smile at that. It is kind of amazing.

Ron continues. "You do look kind of stressed, though. Bad meeting? You want to talk about it?"

Hermione doesn't, she just wants to get to other things, but this is Ron, and she knows Ron well enough (too well) to know that if she doesn't elaborate, he's just going to worry about her and think something worse than just a stressful meeting happened, and she doesn't want that.

So she goes into it, talking about how Justin wouldn't let go of his idea to urge the school to go on a hunger strike to protest the unethical treatment of animals that will eventually end up in the school cafeteria (good idea, but he had no proof and a hunger strike is a laughable idea), and how Lisa was playing devil's advocate to *everyone* so they couldn't get anything done, and how it took forever and she just couldn't wait to get out.

At the end, Ron has this geeky smile on his face that Hermione's always loved.

"What're you thinking?" Hermione asks.

"Why couldn't you wait to get out? Eager to see someone?" Ron teases, looking so pleased.

"Well, yes, obviously, but also the meeting was horrendous."

Ron laughs at Hermione's nonchalance when he realizes she's mostly putting on a show. "Can I try to calm you down?" ------------------------------- Hermione looks delighted at this, already knowing what he's going to offer. "Of course!"

Sitting on the bed, Ron smiles at her as she puts her bag down and shrugs out of her sweater. This has been going on for quite a few years, Ron calming her when she's stressed or having a panic attack. He gives her shoulder rubs, and for some reason this has never been weird. It's simply been something that they do without question, even if others have found it weird. Ron can't help but be a bit excited for this massage, though. Because this time, he can give her a real massage. This time, he doesn't have to attempt to ignore the lovely little moans she can't help but make--the noises that often make his blood shoot straight to his groin, and he'd have to try to readjust his position without making it obvious. Ron is jolted out of these thoughts when Hermione sits in front of him.

Tapping her on the shoulder, he says, "Lay down, 'Mione. On your stomach." She gives Ron a funny look and he laughs, "Go on! I want to give you a proper back rub."

Hermione cocks her eyebrow and murmurs, "Alright then, Ronald." She presses a small kiss on his shoulder as she moves to lay comfortably on the bed. Ron swings his leg over to straddle her lower back and tries not to let on how nervous it makes him to be atop her like this. He knows they should probably take whatever was going on between them.. slowly. He shakes himself mentally, after all he is only giving her a massage. Securing that thought in his mind, Ron leans over his and starts at her shoulders. Working his thumbs into the knots between her shoulders, he forgets about his worries and loses himself in relaxing her. Hermione lets out a low moan when he works his knuckles along her spine, and Ron's denims tighten instantly. He's hovering over her arse now since he's been working on her lower back, and is positive she can feel his arousal. Determined not to be embarrassed by this, he continues as though nothing is wrong. A few minutes later, however, he starts pressing heated, wet kisses across her back as he kneads her waist.

Still dissolving the knots across her back, he nudges the hem of her shirt up with his nose and continues his kissing, only this time pressing them into the expanse of skin right above her jeans. Fucking hell, Hermione's skin feels like it's on fire, and he can hear her breathing becoming more uneven and labored. Ron's kisses are incessant, but all the while, he doesn't stop her massage. ------------------------------ Hermione can't count how many massages she's been given by Ron. Too many. It probably should have been weird. Viktor thought it was weird, that's sure. (At this point, Hermione suspects Ron amped up his massage game last year just to piss off Viktor. It turned, and really relaxed Hermione.) But it was just a normal thing between close friends, and it always helped calm her down.

It's not helping today - the calming down, that is. In fact, it's doing the exact opposite. Hermione has never been this turned on before. Ever. Ron's kisses are electrifying, every one like a like a little shock. Hermione wants them to stop, because she's not sure how much longer she can handle this - her shirt's still on, for godsakes! - but also, this is Ron. She wants him so badly, wants everything with him, but they got together four and a half hours ago, and she doesn't want to rush things. This is Ron. It needs to be perfect. They're so perfect, so this needs to be, too.

Ron shifts on top of her to reach up her shirt a little bit more, and oh, oh, oh, yeah, he's hard. Well, good. If Hermione is going to be incredibly aroused, Ron should be, too. This isn't fair, though. He's touching her and making her feel amazing, and this isn't the everyday "calm down" massage.

"Ron," she moans, unbelieving how breathy she's sounding. "Get up for a second."

"Something wrong, Hermione? Did I go too far?" Ron sounds terrified again, but he gets up all the same.

"Please don't worry so much - you did hear me moaning, yeah?"

"You always moan like that," Ron says, cringing as he realizes what he just admitted.

"You noticed!" Hermione exclaims. "They're *always* good sounds, babe. I just wanted to shift a little bit." As she says that, she turns over so she's lying on her back.

"Ron, come back now," Hermione says with a smile. Ron looks confused on where to sit, so Hermione clarifies. "SIt back, exactly as you were."

So Ron does, climbs back into position as he straddles Hermione again, but the contact now drives Hermione wild. She arches up, needing the delicious friction and moans again, this time louder than ever. Ron gasps, eyes wild, and leans down to kiss her.

It's nothing like their prior kisses. Their last kisses were sweet, adoring, the time of nervous liplocks you build up after ten years of waiting. No longer bothering with closed-mouth kisses, Ron brings his lips to Hermione's, swiping his tongue against her lower lip, demanding entry. Hermione promptly grants it, letting out a little moan as Ron continues to show off the skills he developed with those countless girls, who he will (hopefully) never deal with again. After a few seconds, Ron tears his mouth away from Hermione and brings it down to her neck. He peppers her with little kisses until he finds a spot that makes her go crazy, and she moans deeply, arching upward again and making Ron moan a little bit, too. He fixates on the spot, sucking gently for long enough that Hermione might have a mark tomorrow. (Normally, she'd be pissed about that, but no, not with Ron. She wants everyone to know she's his.)

Their bodies are moving together, and it's brilliant. They're so in sync, like they were made for each other, and they might've been. Ron breaks away for a moment to breathe, and he does, but it's a heavy breath that comes to him. Fortunately (unfortunately), she takes this moment to remember that she doesn't want to go all the way with him, not today.

She pulls away slightly, so she can look at Ron. "Hey," she interrupts. "Can we talk for a sec?"

Ron turns his head to look straight at Hermione. "Yeah, course, 'Mione. We still good?"

"Oh, yeah, yes, Ron, we're good. Just - I hope this is okay, but oh, this is so amazing, but is it okay if we didn't do everything today? Just, maybe, we can take it a little slow? This is just so new, I don't want to rush into anything. Would that be okay?" ---------------------------- "Absolutely, Hermione. Bloody hell, of course, I totally understand. And I agree. And -erm- I'm going to keep kissing you now, if that's alright." Ron catches a flash of a smile from her before he continues his assault on spot where her shoulder begins and she immediately lets out a startled moan. They're bodies are still writhing together, and fuck it all, it's the best thing he's ever experienced and their clothes are still on. Once this thought enters his mind, he decides to do something about it. He moves to kiss her fully on the mouth again as he slides her shirt up, over her bra, over her face. When her shirt gets tangled in her elbows, effectively getting her arms stuck above her head, he grins at her and leaves it. She gives him and affronted glare at being left like this, but he can see the amusement in her eyes, and he unhooks the clasp in the front of her bra in response. There's a glorious heartbeat where the cups cling to her breasts before falling open to reveal her naked torso to him. Ron let's his eyes take their greedy fill of her before reaching down to start massaging her breasts. Hermione gulps, and he's sure it's because of the hunger he can feel written across his face. Slowly, he lowers himself, never breaking eye contact, and captures one of her nipples in his mouth. She arches gorgeously into him, groaning as he laps and sucks at her while his hands roam her sides. He bites her nipple softly before licking his way over to the other, which is begging for attention. Ron can't believe how perfect she is; he's always liked petite girls, so he's never been that into huge, squishy breasts. Hermione's are exactly how he likes them, big enough that you know they're there, but no more than that. Continuing his tender massage of them, Ron begins kissing his way down her stomach, nipping lightly as he goes. He arrives at her denims and sucks right above them while he unbuttons them.

Having been lost in his ministrations, Hermione perks up when she hears her zipper. "Ron Weasley, if you don't get my arms out of this stupid shirt this instant and let me touch you, I will scream."

Ron laughs, "Really, 'Mione, that's not much incentive for me to help. I think I'd rather like if you screamed." Hermione blushes beautifully at that and scowls at him, but he's already helping her out of her shirt. Yanking her bra off the rest of the way, she sits up, even though Ron's still straddling her. She's touching him everywhere instantly, rubbing his chest and shoulders and stomach and suddenly she's pulling his shirt off. She's seen him shirtless before, of course, she practically lived with him and Harry sometimes. Never before has she looked at him this way, though. They're naked torsos are pressed together now, hot and smooth and perfect, and ohfuckohfuck Hermione is kissing his neck hard. He let's out a strangled sob and Hermione pulls back to look at him.

"Why, Ronald, do you have a sensitive neck?" she practically purrs. He stammers, not getting any actual words out, but it doesn't matter, she's already back to sucking on it like the perfect little minx she is. She gives him one hard bite that has him grinding his arousal into her and now suddenly she's got them both on their sides facing each other. Frantically, they help each other shove their pants down and there's a moment of tangled confusion before they're both starkers.

Bloody. Fucking. Hell. Not taking their hands off each other, they both pause in some unspoken agreement, taking a brief moment to just LOOK at each other, finally, mapping out everything they've been missing with their eyes. It's over so fast though, as if they can't bear not to continue immediately. They're bodies are flush against each other for an unbelievable minute while they kiss and hold and writhe. When Ron's cock digs into her hip, they both cry out and instantly have to be touching each other. Hermione's hand is already wrapped around his cock, and Ron thinks he might die as he's cupping her with his hand, rubbing his palm into her short patch of curls, but he still looks at her for permission. She bites her lip and nods, and he presses two calloused fingers into her heat. Ohgod she is so wet and hot and he thrusts them against that brilliant spot. Crying out, Hermione starts wanking him furiously, wriggling against his fingers.

"Oh fuck, oh god, 'Mione," he groans as her hand's curling and squeezing and pulling around him. Ron let's her start a rhythm and then matches it, fucking her with his fingers while his thumb circles on her clit relentlessly. Goddamn, Hermione is moaning so prettily he can hardly stand it. He captures her lips in a deep kiss that is basically just them whimpering into each other's mouths with teeth and tongues getting in the way. They both speed up and everything is so messy and so desperate and he fucking loves it. He feels his body tensing up, "Ohfuuck, uuunggh, Hermione, fuuuuck!" and that's the only warning she has before his hot cum is painting them both.

Ron doesn't miss a beat, though, and adds a third finger, fucking her as deep as he can with them until she cries out just a few moments later, "Oooohhgod, Ron, ohh!" Her body convulses around him and she shudders as her orgasm hits. Eyes glued to her face, Ron watches in awe as her eyes squeeze tight in ecstasy. Hooking his leg around her body and pulling a blanket over them, he holds her tight, peppering her face in soft kisses.

He's stroking her arm softly and watching her, waiting for her to open her eyes and look at him. This was bloody brilliant, but he's worried they got caught up and he took it too far. Hadn't she just told him she wanted to take it slow? Hoping everything is okay still, he finally speaks. "Bloody hell, Hermione. You're so fucking beautiful." -------------------------- There's something to be said for cuddling up next to another person after post-orgasm bliss, but this is different. Viktor made her feel warm and nice, but Ron makes her feel whole. She's not sure she's going to live without this.

(Hopefully she won't need to.)

She's too on-edge still to think, but when Ron calls her "fucking beautiful," it brings her back to Earth. Poeple have told her she was pretty before, but she's never really believed them, she still sees herself as that awkward 11-year-old who no one wanted to talk to until she got detention for trying to help two boys in math class by passing them notes on how to do the problems. Three days of detention can bring you close to other people, though, and Harry and Ron sort of just kept her after that. But hearing Ron's wavering tone, calling her that, knowing that he wouldn't say it if he didn't mean it, she can't help but smile.

"You're not too bad yourself, Ron," Hermione says cheekily, not opening her eyes but somehow curling herself tighter into him. "That was perfect. Let's not wait another ten years to do that again, okay?"

Hermione can feel the grin break out on Ron's face, but she can't keep her eyes closed, she needs to see it. He looks so happy, and she - fucking did that.

"I think that can be arranged, 'Mione," he states. His expression slightly falters, though, looking hesistant, like he wants to ask something but he's not sure how.

"Ron, my turn to ask, what's wrong? You okay?"

"Just - you literally just said you wanted to take it slow, and now we're lying here, naked? I feel like I got carried away because you're just - too, um, perfect, I don't know, and I hope I didn't do anything wrong."

Hermione giggles slightly. "Ron, don't worry. I'm not afraid of you, if you're starting something I don't want, I'll tell you. I wasn't ready for sex, but what we did was fine. Well, not fine. Perfect, as I said. I am a little cold, though, would you mind if I grabbed one of your shirts to put on? My clothes are kinda tight for what I feel like wearing now."

"One of my shirts? Yeah, sure, Hermione, top drawer," Ron says, but it's hesistant, like that's not what he wants.

"I don't need to..." Hermione trails off, unsure.

"No, no, please, I'm just not sure I'm quite ready for round 2 just yet, and the sight of you in one of *my* shirts might just drive me crazy."

At that, Hermione pops up. "Ooh! Then I'm definitely grabbing one of the shirts. Maybe your Ramones tee. It is my favorite."

She gets up to grab it and is freezing before she gets to the drawer. She rummages through the top drawer, looking for the tee, and eventually finds it. Ron gulps audibly when she puts it on, and Hermione grins, quite widely. She goes to put the shirts she moved around in their proper places, but finds something else to pique her interest.

"Is this oregano, Ron?"

Ron flushes terribly as Hermione turns around to face him. It's adorable. "Um, no?" he squeaks.

"Haha, babe, I know. I did smoke with you (and Blaise) last week, remember? Can we have some now?" ----------------------- Ron flushes even deeper, still not used to how freely she's started calling him "babe." Maybe he should try pet names, too.

"Hell ya we can have some, love." Fuck, he wasn't sure if that was too much. I mean, she knows he loves her. He literally screamed it at her. But maybe they have to work up to saying that again? He grabs some sweatpants from the floor and pulls them on, sitting on the bed. "Er- here, let me.. I think I have a joint already rolled in there." Hermione peeks in his drawer again and pulls one out, along with a lighter. She hands them to Ron and fluffs up the pillows against the wall so they have something to lean back on. Ron watches with a grin as the shirt rides up on her thigh and she sticks her tongue out at him when she catches him looking. Crawling over, she curls up to sit next to him, while he puts the joint between his lips and starts to light it. He's distracted, however, by Hermione taking her now-ruined bun out, shaking her head with a sigh and letting her hair cascade around her shoulders. When she looks up at him, he's staring openly at her, with the joint hanging from his slightly parted lips. Laughing, she plucks it out of his mouth and grabs the lighter so she can start it up.

Ron watches her light and inhale, and just stares more. "Seriously Hermione, you've no idea how gorgeous you look right now…Your hair messy and loose, mascara smudged, wearing my oversized old Ramones shirt over your bloody bare legs, taking a drag from a joint like a pro…" He smirks. "If 16-year-old you could see you now."

She lets smoke out of her mouth leisurely as she smiles, "I think she'd be secretly pleased, actually. But only because I'm also cuddled up next to a shirtless Ron Weasley with a just-been-shagged look on his face." Smiling, Ron grabs the joint back from her, taking a moment to inhale deeply, eyes closed. When he exhales, he looks Hermione dead in the eye and breathes the smoke out his nose with a smirk.

Hermione laughs delightedly, "You look like a dragon, I wish I could do that." They spend the next several minutes trying to teach her, and she's close, but still can't quite get it. By the end of the lesson, however, they're both quite fucking high, and giggling.

"You know, 'Mione," Ron says in between giggles, "I never really got to ask you. Are you- er- will you be my girlfriend? My best friend and exclusive…lover?" He cocks an eyebrow, but he's actually trying to be serious. "We, um, don't have to put a label on it, but, I just- I need to- want to- know that you're mine and that I get to be yours and I really couldn't handle anyone else looking at you ever and, erm, yea." Ron looks mildly embarrassed at this bout of possessiveness, so he busies himself with the joint again. ------------------------ Oooh. Oh. Did Ron just ask what Hermione thinks he did? Aka, the question she's been hoping to hear since she was like 14? Obviously, she's going to say yes, but it seems like a good idea to play around with him a little bit.

"Hmm, I don't know, now that you've reawakened my needs for sexual contact with that wonderful trick you pulled, maybe I should play the field, too."

Oops. Big mistake. Ron looks crestfallen. Hermione needs to fix it, now.

"Ron. Look at me." Ron turns his head up from where it was facing the bed, but refuses to look Hermione in the eye. So Hermione moves her hands up to his face and grasps his cheeks, forcing him to look at her. "Ron, of course I would like to be exclusive with you. I would love to be yours. Which makes you, as you said, mine. Clear?"

Ron mumbles his assent, but Hermione isn't sure he gets it. Or maybe he does, but he's too lazy to agree, they are pretty high after all. She's all tingly inside for more reasons than one, and the feel of Ron's leg pressed up against hers as they just lie in bed is almost too much to handle. Hermione needs to convince him that she was just kidding, though, so she moves her hands, still on his cheeks, one to cradle his hair and the other to his right shoulder, and brings him up close. She brings their lips together again for another searing kiss. It's heaven. She could definitely do this forever.

"Clear?" Hermione asks again. Well, it's more like a demand.

"Clear, 'Mione," Ron giggles. "You're definitely mine, I'm not letting you go. Ever."

Hermione could live with that.

She grabs the joint where Ron put it down during the kiss, but it seems like it's almost out. Well, Hermione could try to get another hit out, but she could also burn her fingers off. (Ever logical, that Hermione.) She laughs softly at the incredulity of the situation - her, lying in Ron's bed mostly naked (she probably should have put underwear on, but it seemed hard, okay?), with Ron there half-naked beside her, high out of her mind. It's brilliant and she wants to do it forever. But right now, she can't stay in bed. She's so warm and cosy enveloped in Ron's essence that she'll fall asleep, and this is the best night of her life so far (except maybe graduation, giving that valedictorian speech and showing everyone how great she was was pretty awesome, too), but now, she can't fall asleep, she needs to savor tonight.

This is probably a silly thing to ask, but it's Ron, and he's pretty giggly too, so he won't mind, she doesn't think. "You have any chocolate?" -------------------------- Scoffing, Ron replies, "Please, Hermione, as if I wouldn't have chocolate on hand at all times." When he reaches under the bed and pulls out a candy bar, Hermione bursts out laughing.

"Oh my god, Ron, you're brilliant," she declares as she takes it from him and immediately starts digging in. Ron shoots her a lop-sided grin and watches in amusement as she eats the entire bar.

"Why, 'Mione, I do believe you have the munchies." In response, Hermione throws the wrapper at him and gives him a delicious, chocolate-flavored kiss, which he responds to enthusiastically. Without knowing how they got there, they find themselves intertwined on their sides, still kissing. They pull apart for a moment in surprise at finding themselves in this position. and when they do, Hermione yawns. "Boring you, am I?" Ron teases.

Hermione swats his shoulder and mumbles, "Just sleepy. It's been a long day: we walked around town, the meeting was horrible and and then I came here and got a massage, got off, and got high." She frowns slightly and sits up. "I guess I should find my clothes and get home before I'm too tired to get there." She looks up and Ron is giving her a funny look, he almost looks hurt. "What? What's wrong?"

He speaks slowly, as if worried he'll upset her, "'Mione…you're not just going to stay here? I thought, um, I thought you'd sleep here with me. Do you- do you not want to? You've crashed in our dorm loads of times. If you, erm, feel uncomfortable, I can take the floor…" He trails off, waiting for her to respond.

As she speaks, Hermione looks slightly flustered. "Of course I want to stay, you daft boy. I just, well, I didn't want to be presumptuous." She scowls when he snorts at her, but she knows he's not meaning to be mean.

"Seriously?" Ron asks through his laughter, "Hermione, neither of us are bloody wearing underwear, I think that means nothing is 'presumptuous.'" Becoming more serious, he looks her in the eye and brushes her hair out of her face. "Stay. Please." ------------------------ "Well, that settles it, then," Hermione states, conclusively but lazily, a feat which not many would be able to accomplish. "I'll stay."

Ron sprouts that big grin he's been sporting all day, the one Hermione's not sure she's going to be able to go a day without. "So you want to go to bed, then?" he asks.

"Would you hate me if I did?" Hermione replies. "I don't want this day to end but I'm so beat and you're so comfy."

"Hermione Granger, you know I could never hate you. Let's sleep, then." As he says this, Ron settles himself onto bed, lying down on his back in his normal position (which Hermione knows because sometimes she has to wake him up when they're going to brunch, and no other reason) and Hermione curls up into him, head on his bare chest. He's really, really warm, and after a moment, she sits up abruptly. She ignores Ron's look of confusion as she takes off her (his) shirt and settles herself back into position.

Somehow, Ron's grin gets even wider. As he reaches to turn off the lights, Hermione has one more question. "Ronald, can we get brunch in the morning?"

"Course, 'Mione," he yawns, "and I'll make sure to stock up for next time you have the munchies, too."

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Bloody hell, mate.