Mr. Granger and Mrs. Weasley (R)
Title: Mr. Granger and Mrs. Weasley
Prompt: 'I would like to be the air that inhabits you just for a moment. I want to be that unnoticed, but that necessary'; two drabbles of equal length up to 300 words each, one from Hermione's pov and one from Ron's pov
Rating: R
Word Count: 300 + 300 = 600
Summary: Introductions are made at a celebration
A/N: Written for Challenge 10, Round 1 of rwhg_ldws; but for undercloakkept this never would have succeeded
Mr. Granger
Hermione looks frigging amazing as we dance around the room.
Yea, I'm dancing, what of it?
I've got the prettiest, smartest witch in Britain panting in my arms, so obviously it's a smart move. Tonight's about her anyway. If she wants to dance, we dance.
We're celebrating publication of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, translated from the Ancient Runes by Hermione Granger.
I’m so effing proud! We can barely go three minutes without some academic poofter coming over heaping and praise on her.
"Ms. Granger?"
Some tosser wants to worship my wife. He's older than dirt and twice as ugly, so I let him.
"Edgar Fitzherbert. I must say, your explorations of the subtlety of syntax were most ingenious."
"Thank you. May I introduce my husband, Ro-"
He grabs my hand. "Mr. Granger!” Damn, he's sweaty. "You must be so proud!"
Uh-oh... she's getting The Look. Nothing turns me on like The Look. Wish this wanker would leave before I poke through my trousers. "Very proud, sir. If you'll excuse us..." I dance Hermione away before she responds or I embarrass myself.
"How dare he?" she huffs, making her tits bounce deliciously. I brush against her, trying to get her nips hard. Ha! Works every time!
"Hermione, it doesn't matter."
"How can you say that?"
"Because it doesn't."
"He should know who you are, they all should!"
"They know I'm your husband. That's enough."
"But-"
"I'm not the jealous git I used to be, Hermione; I'm not gonna get all shirty if you get attention and I don't." I pull her close and continue moving to the music, trying my best not to grind against her. "It's enough that you need me, even for a moment."
"Besides," I whisper into her hair, "I'm already on a Chocolate Frog Card."
Mrs. Weasley
We're dancing, slowly moving our bodies, his slim hips brushing tantalizingly, intentionally, against mine.
I shiver from the rumble of Ron's deep voice when he whispers, "Besides, I'm already on a Chocolate Frog Card."
I can't hide my smile as I bury my face into his chest. He was so excited about that silly card. So was I, to be honest. I was thrilled he finally received the recognition he deserved.
And now he’s telling me it doesn't matter. Of course it matters! Ron's earned the right to be known as more than Harry Potter's best mate or 'Mr. Hermione Granger'.
I blame myself; I should never have agreed to publish the book under my maiden name.
We're on a crowded dance floor, yet all I'm aware of is him. His large hand is splayed low on my back, trapping me against him. His long calloused fingers catch the silk of my dress as they dip close to my bottom.
Trapped. That's not right; it implies that I want to be freed. This is exactly where I want to be … need to be.
I can't believe what Ron just said: "It's enough that you need me, even for a moment." A moment? Doesn't he understand?
As if he detects my mind wandering to more serious ground, Ron suddenly twirls me around. He rubs against me, causing a familiar tingle in my breasts.
"More than a moment," I whisper.
"Hmmmm?"
He pulls me closer, with his hand on my back even lower this time. The tingle spreads further down too.
"I need you for so much more than just a moment." A sudden change in tempo alerts me to the fact we're standing stock-still amidst the dancing couples.
"Ron?"
"Yeah?" I can feel his breath on my face.
"Let's go home."
Prompt: 'I would like to be the air that inhabits you just for a moment. I want to be that unnoticed, but that necessary'; two drabbles of equal length up to 300 words each, one from Hermione's pov and one from Ron's pov
Rating: R
Word Count: 300 + 300 = 600
Summary: Introductions are made at a celebration
A/N: Written for Challenge 10, Round 1 of rwhg_ldws; but for undercloakkept this never would have succeeded
Mr. Granger
Hermione looks frigging amazing as we dance around the room.
Yea, I'm dancing, what of it?
I've got the prettiest, smartest witch in Britain panting in my arms, so obviously it's a smart move. Tonight's about her anyway. If she wants to dance, we dance.
We're celebrating publication of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, translated from the Ancient Runes by Hermione Granger.
I’m so effing proud! We can barely go three minutes without some academic poofter coming over heaping and praise on her.
"Ms. Granger?"
Some tosser wants to worship my wife. He's older than dirt and twice as ugly, so I let him.
"Edgar Fitzherbert. I must say, your explorations of the subtlety of syntax were most ingenious."
"Thank you. May I introduce my husband, Ro-"
He grabs my hand. "Mr. Granger!” Damn, he's sweaty. "You must be so proud!"
Uh-oh... she's getting The Look. Nothing turns me on like The Look. Wish this wanker would leave before I poke through my trousers. "Very proud, sir. If you'll excuse us..." I dance Hermione away before she responds or I embarrass myself.
"How dare he?" she huffs, making her tits bounce deliciously. I brush against her, trying to get her nips hard. Ha! Works every time!
"Hermione, it doesn't matter."
"How can you say that?"
"Because it doesn't."
"He should know who you are, they all should!"
"They know I'm your husband. That's enough."
"But-"
"I'm not the jealous git I used to be, Hermione; I'm not gonna get all shirty if you get attention and I don't." I pull her close and continue moving to the music, trying my best not to grind against her. "It's enough that you need me, even for a moment."
"Besides," I whisper into her hair, "I'm already on a Chocolate Frog Card."
Mrs. Weasley
We're dancing, slowly moving our bodies, his slim hips brushing tantalizingly, intentionally, against mine.
I shiver from the rumble of Ron's deep voice when he whispers, "Besides, I'm already on a Chocolate Frog Card."
I can't hide my smile as I bury my face into his chest. He was so excited about that silly card. So was I, to be honest. I was thrilled he finally received the recognition he deserved.
And now he’s telling me it doesn't matter. Of course it matters! Ron's earned the right to be known as more than Harry Potter's best mate or 'Mr. Hermione Granger'.
I blame myself; I should never have agreed to publish the book under my maiden name.
We're on a crowded dance floor, yet all I'm aware of is him. His large hand is splayed low on my back, trapping me against him. His long calloused fingers catch the silk of my dress as they dip close to my bottom.
Trapped. That's not right; it implies that I want to be freed. This is exactly where I want to be … need to be.
I can't believe what Ron just said: "It's enough that you need me, even for a moment." A moment? Doesn't he understand?
As if he detects my mind wandering to more serious ground, Ron suddenly twirls me around. He rubs against me, causing a familiar tingle in my breasts.
"More than a moment," I whisper.
"Hmmmm?"
He pulls me closer, with his hand on my back even lower this time. The tingle spreads further down too.
"I need you for so much more than just a moment." A sudden change in tempo alerts me to the fact we're standing stock-still amidst the dancing couples.
"Ron?"
"Yeah?" I can feel his breath on my face.
"Let's go home."