Gamble Everything For Love Chapter 9 FINAL CHAPTER
Title: Gamble Everything For Love Chapter 9
Author: EruditeFics
Pairings: R/Hr, H/G, George/Angelina
Chapter: You're gonna be alright
Rating: R now NC-17
Warnings: Strong sexual content. Little violence and Language now.
Summary: Ron Weasley's composure hangs by a thread after the final battle. When it breaks, what else will be broken?
In this chapter: A proposal, a turkey sandwich, and sex on office furniture....in no particular order. Big thanks to my beta Ed for helping me to complete this work!
Love me with an open heart,
Tell me everything.
It was a hot day, even for June. Angelina Johnson had tried every cooling charm she could think of, but was still soaked with sweat. It didn’t help that she had to keep lifting heavy boxes, because there wasn’t enough room in the Wheeze’s storeroom to safely levitate the boxes. Still they needed to get things back in order, and Angelina was nothing if not organized. She was relieved when she had finally moved the last box and she was able to take a moment to wipe the sweat from her face with the end of her tee shirt.
“Got some more boxes for ya, Angie!” George yelled, and Angelina’s entire body seemed to wilt. When he came to the back room empty-handed and winked at her, she pretended she didn’t understand how the loose box of skiving snackboxes hit George upside the head. He ran at her in mock anger, wagging his finger dramatically.
“Ahh that’s better,” he said, putting an equally sweaty arm around her. “I can finally see the desk again!” he exclaimed, and before Angelina could even say ‘you’re welcome’, he had crashed his lips against hers.
As was usually the case when she was with George, Angelina instantly flooded with desire. Not even worried about her sweaty body anymore, she pressed against him and let her tongue dance in circles around his. He moaned, wrapping his hand around her neck to deepen their kiss. His other hand moved up her shirt.
“So this is my payment for an afternoon of work? I want a raise!” she smirked, her hand moving to his groin.
“Mmm. How about a bonus, you cheeky witch?” He said, pulling her tee shirt over her head. His hands cupped her breasts, causing both to moan eagerly.
She ran her hands up and down his back before pulling his shirt off. She kissed his chest, enjoying his smooth skin and the pattern of freckles that were uniquely George. She quickly undid his trousers, lowering herself to her knees. She moved his shorts down slowly, just to tease him a little.
When she finally wrapped her fingers around his cock, his hips bucked and he stifled a cry deep in his throat. She saw him point his wand at the door, hiding them safely from the world and whatever might be happening outside. She darted out her tongue to taste the salty sweet liquid weeping from his head. He gripped her shoulder hard.
“Oh Angie!” he moaned when she let his erection slide into her mouth. “So good,” he whimpered between groans.
She reached a hand around to grip his perfect, round arse while she ran a stiff tongue along the underside of his shaft.
“Oh fuck!” he yelled when she began to suck in harder and she dug her nails into his flesh.
Angelina loved any excuse to touch him, to taste him. They had only had a few days of ‘official’ dating, but the pair had been doing things like this since Seventh Year. She had loved him back then, but was too afraid she might lose him by confessing her feelings. Now, however, she could enjoy him in all the ways she wanted.
“Merlin, Angie, you’re…oh…” he mumbled. Suddenly, his tense hands pulled her up and he kissed her exuberantly. “This is supposed to be your bonus,” he whispered, pushing her back. To her surprise, she landed on the newly visible desk.
George pulled off her shorts and knickers in one smooth motion and lay over her to kiss her neck, his erection begging for entrance. He leaned back and threw one of her long legs over his shoulder, the accompanying rush of wind bringing a whiff of her intoxicating scent, accentuating her hot arousal.
“I love you,” he whispered before his length filled her and she cried out his name.
He fucked her hard, withdrawing almost completely from her before entering once again in a mind-blowing rapid series of movements. His hands were over hers, which were gripping the sides of the desk.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he grunted, continuing to slam into her.
Angelina could feel her body begin to tense, to feel the wave of pleasure starting to loom inside of her. “Oh George!” she called out, unable to say anything else.
“Come for me, Angelina,” he whispered into her ear. It was all she needed for her whole body to seize up and cause her to yell.
Angelina’s release brought George’s building climax to a simultaneous peak. “Fuck,” he moaned, riding out their orgasms together.
When at last their breathing slowed, he gently moved off her. He gathered her clothes silently but stared lovingly at her as she slid on her knickers. He pulled on his shorts and then wrapped his arms around her waist, settling her close to his chest.
“So what do I get if I do inventory?” she asked slightly.
“Angie, listen,” George said, suddenly serious.
Anxiety began to pound in her chest, but Angelina forced herself to remain composed.
“I know we’ve just officially started dating, but you love me, right?” he asked, his light brown eyes pleading with her.
“Of course, George, more than anything,” she answered earnestly.
In response, George released the breath he was holding.
“And I live for you,” he croaked.
Angelina knew that was more than a euphemism on some of his worst days, so she pulled him closer to her.
George ran his hand along the side of her face, becoming increasingly nervous with each passing moment.
“George, what?” Angelina asked, but she couldn’t finish the sentence because George had dropped to one knee.
She gasped and a very confused purple pygmy puff suddenly descended from the ceiling on a string. Tied to a bow on his its back was a beautiful ring with a diamond flanked by two magenta stones. She stood shocked as the pygmy puff continued to dangle in front of her.
George undid the ribbon and held the ring in his hands.
“Will you marry me, and let me love you forever?” he asked, taking her hand.
“Yes,” she said clearly, though tears were forming in her eyes.
He stood, slipped the ring on her finger, and pulled her into the best hug of her life.
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Ron wasn’t just worried. He was scared. He had to meet Hermione at Fred and…well … George’s shop in 30 minutes. He couldn’t silence the fear echoing in his mind at the thought of Hermione being alone in such a crowded area.
She had insisted on doing this on her own, and he knew it was best for her to get back on her feet. However that didn’t stop him from imagining her injured, alone, and scared. He clenched his fists and began his third round of pacing through the alley and checking his watch.
His worry was only magnified by the fact that Runcorn’s trial was beginning in an hour. Soon, Hermione’s ordeal would be put on display, and though it was a closed trial, even he wasn’t sure he could stand the thought of reliving such a horrible experience. He also knew that if he felt this strongly about the situation, it had to be much, much harder on her.
Ron had to remind himself that she had insisted on coming alone, saying that the benefits of seeing justice served would far outweigh the pain of reliving the horrible things that had happened.
Ron wasn’t sure he could keep himself from murdering the monster if he had to see Runcorn’s face again.
At exactly three o’clock, he hurried into the shop. Relief washed over him when he saw her bushy brown hair near the back room of the shop. However, when he finally saw her face, there were tears. He reached for her, but she raised her hands and pointed toward the slightly opened door.
George was on one knee in front of Angelina, a pygmy puff dangling between them. The oddest thing was that she was in jean shorts and a bra, he in his boxers. She must have said yes, because the next moment, they were embracing.
Ron was so ecstatically proud of George. He had been worried that his brother might be beyond repair, but seeing him hold her, he knew there was still hope. Overwhelmed with joy, Ron couldn’t help but begin to clap. Hermione started setting off cheering charms around the shop.
“What’s all the cheering for?” Ginny asked, making her way through the shop, Harry in tow.
“I’m getting fucking married!” George said, bouncing up and down.
Ginny let out a high pitched squeal and made a beeline for Angelina. “Welcome to the family,” she exclaimed, embracing Angelina tightly.
Moments later, Harry joined them, hugging Angelina’s shirtless form with a little less enthusiasm.
Meanwhile, Hermione had given George a warm embrace.
“Oi! You keep your naked hands off her!” Ron said, grinning. This earned him a bare-skinned hug as well.
After a celebratory glass of firewhiskey, they finally got George to put his clothes back on. As the time to testify grew near, however, the mood darkened a bit.
“Are you guys ready to go?” Harry asked timidly.
George and Angelina nodded, gathering their things.
Ron looked at Hermione. She had a pensive expression on her face, the kind he often studied secretively while she was reading. He put a hand on her back to encourage her, to comfort her.
“I’m actually quite famished. I haven’t been eating well lately, but I’d rather eat than sit in that courtroom for hours,” she said, without a hint of sadness or apprehension in her voice.
“Anything you want, love,” Ron answered, taking her hand. They walked out of the shop while the others stared after them in shock. Ron looked back, smiled, and signaled that everyone else should go ahead.
They walked along Diagon Alley in a comfortable silence. The day was sunny and warm, and Hermione’s face seemed to be bathed in a yellow light. Ron wasn’t about to question her decision; he was too relieved himself to not have to go and look at the pathetic disgusting face of the man who hurt Hermione. She looked serene, too at ease with herself, and he didn’t want to risk whatever put her in that mood. After days of worry, he loved just seeing her smile.
“What are you in the mood for? Steak? Sausage? Fish and chips?” Ron asked, his own mouth watering.
“Actually, I could really go for a turkey sandwich,” she said thoughtfully.
“Then we have to go to The Burrow! I’m a pro at turkey sandwiches. Just don’t change your mind and ask for corned beef when we get there,” he said with mild disgust.
Hermione chuckled lightly.
They Disapparated immediately, arriving moments later just outside the Burrow and walked in quietly. The house was still and silent.
“Where is everyone?” she asked, her voice nearly matching the silence of the kitchen.
“The trial, I suppose,” Ron answered, fishing out all of the ingredients he needed: Mum’s homemade bread, cheddar, mayo, mustard, lettuce and some roast turkey. In no time at all, he had prepared two flawless sandwiches while she set out two cups of ice-cold pumpkin juice.
Ron almost forgot his own meal as he watched Hermione eat her sandwich with gusto. There was something comforting about seeing her eat. It was like everything was going to be okay now because Hermione Granger loved her turkey sandwich. It was then, of course, when he remembered he was starving and quickly caught up with her.
When they were both finished, Ron let out a big, elaborate stretch and patted his belly. Hermione yawned, but her eyes didn’t look tired at all. In fact, she seemed a little nervous. Ron quickly thought of ways to ease her mood.
“Wanna catch a nap while the house is quiet?” he asked, putting an arm around her. Her eyes got wide, a blush crept to her cheeks, and then she nodded. When they got to his bedroom door, she paused, shaking slightly.
“Hermione! You don’t have to sleep in here. I can set you up in Ginny’s room if you would like,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She shook her head fervently, so he guided her into his room and readied his bed for a nice, summer nap. She sat down next to him, reaching up for his face.
Her hand was so soft and warm that Ron couldn’t help but close his eyes and lean into her touch. Suddenly, she was kissing him. He kissed her back joyfully, never wanting the moment to end. She moved into his lap, one leg on either side of his hips, and pulled away while she attempted to find her words. As he waited, Ron ran a hand through her hair.
“I just…well…I don’t want to just live with this. I don’t want to just overcome something and have it always linger,” she said with determination.
“I understand, love,” Ron said, despite not fully understanding.
“You know, seeing George and Angelina so happy made me want the same thing so bad,” she said, closing her eyes as though she was imagining it.
Ron panicked a little, but if it would keep her even this happy, he’d buy her a ring and marry her today. He knew he was going to ask her eventually anyway. He continued to play with her hair as she resumed.
“I want to move on, not just get over it,” Hermione continued. “I don’t want to be stuck in this place. George is moving on from his pain, and I should be just as strong.
“You are, love. It’s only been a few days and you’re doing so great!” Ron encouraged.
“I know. I feel better. I just want life to move forward. We’ve lost too much and gave too much of ourselves to the war effort. So, starting right now, I am not wasting even of it,” she said, kissing him again.
Ron pulled back to meet her eyes. He needed to make sure that she understood he wasn’t going anywhere.
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If you gamble everything for love
If you gamble everything for love
If you gamble everything for love
You gonna be alright, alright
“I know it’s going to be a while before you are completely recovered, but as long as I can hold you, I’ll be fine,” he said softly.
Hermione understood what he meant. Any person with even a cursory knowledge of psychology would know that the recovery period for this type of thing would take a very long time. But time was something Hermione didn’t want to waste. After so many years of fighting for her world, for her friends and family, she had come to realize that every single moment holds value. Waiting very long time just wasn’t an option.
She knew there would be some residual pain and a few imprints left from that fearful time, but Ron’s gentle touch and his calming eyes had banished them all into shadow.
Hermione placed her hands on Ron’s face as he cautiously kissed her palms. She mustered up the fountains of courage that were housed in her chest and kissed him with every ounce of love and passion she possessed.
Ron sat stiffly for a moment, obviously worried that she had gone around the twist again, but relaxed when her thumbs ran along his stubbled face.
“Hermione,” he whispered, taking her face in his hands. He kissed her carefully, sliding his lips softly over hers and letting one of his hands firmly plant in her hair. He nudged his nose along her jaw and inhaled deeply. When his lips found their way to her neck, she responded by moaning very slightly.
His answering groan took her by surprise as he laid her back against the bed and she felt his tongue slide across her lips. The feeling of his tongue dancing with hers lit a fire underneath her and every semblance of Runcorn seemed to fade as Ron’s face flooded all of her conscious thoughts.
“Hey,” his voice cracked and she turned to look in his wide eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked anxiously, not wanting or able to elaborate on that question.
“Yes. I’m okay. It’s okay. I just want you,” Hermione said, shocked by her own forwardness. Ron’s entire face flushed and his eyes filled with doubt, but he laid his body back over hers and pressed his face against her bare shoulders, kissing them lightly.
“I promise I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll do whatever I can to keep anyone else from hurting you too,” he croaked, gazing at her reverently. His grip on her tightened, as though he was afraid she would disappear again.
Hermione pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him until she lost all sense of time. She wrapped her legs around his waist and couldn’t help but gasp when she felt his erection pressed against her center. Ron pulled away from her lips, apology evident on his face.
Hermione thrust her hips up into his, and he closed his eyes and bit his lip. She loved the way he looked: his lips bright red and every inch of his body fighting for control over his reactions. When he thrust his hips back down again, they both moaned.
He kissed her hard this time, his mouth engulfing hers hungrily. Her hands found their way inside his shirt and pressed against the burning skin of his sides.
“Mmmm,” he groaned, his hips against hers, moving back and forth in rhythm. His hand ran lightly down her neck, his fingertips grazing her pulse point. He slipped the strap of her top off her shoulder and kissed her exposed skin. His lips, his touch, and the look in his eyes were all so soft that all the darkness in the world seemed to disappear. When his lips found the swell of her breasts, her hips lifted off of the bed and pressed hard into his erection.
“Gods, Hermione,” Ron whispered, his upper arms shaking as his quivering fingers moved away the fabric of her bra to expose her nipples. His hand covered her breast gently, and this time his hips quickened their pace against her clothed center. He reached behind and fumbled for only a few seconds before unhooking her bra and removing it completely.
Hermione’s back arched when his lips closed over her nipple and his tongue flitted across her flesh. She fisted her hand in his hair as she had imagined doing throughout many nights alone in her bunk. She let the silken strands overtake her fingers. When Ron went to lift her shirt off of her body, she more than eagerly complied.
Hermione tugged at Ron’s shirt and pulled it over his head, not bothering with buttons. When the warmth of his skin pressed against her own coolness, the feeling nearly overwhelmed her.
She felt Ron’s body writhing against her as she echoed his movements, her lips grazing the soft flesh of his neck as his breath became rushed. Soon, she could feel his heart pounding against her. She was concerned until she looked up at his face and saw his hair cascading into his eyes, his lips parting, and his cheeks burning bright red.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Hermione,” he groaned, his voice choking in his throat as his body stiffened.
“I love you too,” he said, kissing every spot on her face. He sat up, looking embarrassed, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes as he cast a cleansing charm on his trousers.
His eyes finally met hers and he smiled shyly, that smirk giving Hermione more hope than the most powerful Patronus. His face fell as his eyes swept slowly down her body. Hermione covered herself out of instinct.
“No, Hermione,” he said firmly, moving the blanket back off of her. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. These scars are nothing. They just show me how strong you are…how incredible you are.”
Luckily he had begun to kiss the long scar across her stomach and couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t feel strong. She needed Ron to banish Runcorn from her mind, and sometimes it felt like she needed Ron’s presence just to breathe. Would he still love her if he knew how weak she was, how needy she felt?
The fearful reasoning left her head when she felt Ron’s fingertips toying with the waistline of her shorts. Ron’s fingers tucked under the thin fabric as he went to pull them off her hips. Anticipating that the pause was due to uncertainty, she lifted her hips off the bed allowing him to slip her shorts over her feet, leaving her only in knickers.
She felt his face pressed against her thigh, breathing in deeply. His thumbs traced her scars while his lips traveled back up her body. His hand rested on her hips and he kissed her repeatedly. His fingers slipped over her mound, touching her through her panties, as their breathing seemed to cease simultaneously.
“Is this okay, love? Did he hurt you…here…too?” he asked while his voice suppressed crying out to her in fear.
Hermione’s heart seemed to leap from her chest as his fingers pressed more firmly against her. “No, Ron, no. He never…he tried…but he…” Hermione could barely stand the need for his touch to deepen.
Ron’s fingers moved her knickers to the side, slipped between her lips, and brushed against her clit. She cried out as he moaned into her shoulder. He rubbed that spot for a few delicious moments as she writhed beneath him.
When he slid one finger inside her, her body began to tense, an automatic response of fear and apprehension. She longed for him to move, to touch her more deeply, but she seemed unable to move, unable to speak, unable to breath.
“Hermione,” he whispered, kissing around her ear and down her jaw. “I won’t hurt you and I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” He repeated the mantra.
Her body relaxed, allowing Ron to slide another finger inside. The tightness was both wonderful and painful, so Hermione opened her legs wider on instinct. His fingers shifted against her walls sending a jolt throughout her bones. He twisted his hand, and as he did so, his wrist brushed against the sensitive nub between her lips and she cried out, her hips grinding into his hand.
Ron lifted his head from her neck and smiled a genuine, toothy grin. That smirk sent Hermione’s head spinning and made her heart burst. He leaned down and kissed her softly.
Then, she felt his thumb move lightly across her clit and her fingers dug into his shoulders as she cried out yet again. He continued until she felt her body tense and a wave of pleasure roll over her. She whispered his name when the quivering subsided and he muttered “so beautiful” in the vicinity of her ear.
Ron rolled onto his side and pulled her close, his head resting on top of hers. She let her heartbeat slow as she lay in the safety of his arms and her hands ran lazily along the bare skin of his back. She could feel his desire for her building again and her curiosity peaked. She was shocked and pleased that she wasn’t the only one whose body was so drawn to the other. She began to play with the waist of his jeans, and when her hand ran over his rounded bum, his hips bucked again.
She bravely undid the button on his trousers and slowly released the zipper, her own hands trembling with nerves.
“Hermione, you don’t have to just because,” Ron started, though he couldn’t suppress a moan when her hand reached down his shorts and she grazed his hipbone.
Hermione was touched but a little frustrated by his statement. She knew that he was trying to keep her relaxed, trying to erase any fears or lingering anxiety, but she just wanted to feel him. She wanted to love him like he loved her.
“I need to touch you, Ron.” She said, pressing her hands on his shoulders to encourage him to lie on his back.
Hermione’s hand wrapped around Ron and her breath froze. He was hard and soft, warm and smooth, but most importantly he was Ron. She relished the chance to make him feel good. She began to move her hand up and down while Ron’s lips clenched tightly shut, like he was holding back, not fully letting go. She moved her thumb around the soft tip of his cock.
“Fuck!” he grunted, his hands gripping either side of the mattress. Hermione continued on with similar motions and watched him, devouring him as if he was an ancient text. She could see his ribs come down from his lightly muscled chest to rest on his abdomen. His stomach clenched and unclenched with each stroke of her hand, and the fluid motion of his tight, lean body mesmerized her. His long arms spanned her entire bed, and Hermione longed for his large hands to be all over her again. She leaned down to kiss around his navel and his hand ran tensely over her neck and shoulders.
He sat up to look at her, leaning up on his arms, shaking as she continued to grip his cock. His eyes were burning as they met hers, and the stare alone caused heat to flare up between her legs. He kissed her as he turned her body more fully toward him. When her breasts were exposed, his mouth lavished each with attention as he moaned and thrust into her hands.
Slowly, he guided her back down the bed and she was forced to remove her hand…slightly frustrated again.
“You feel so good,” he breathed, kissing across her collarbone as he gazed at her. “I didn’t want to…well…” He said, and kissed her scar again, stopping to slowly pull down her panties.
“I want to taste you,” Ron whispered, touching her center with his entire hand.
Hermione was shocked. Of course, she desperately wanted him to kiss her there, but she was a little apprehensive about him being in such uncharted territory. However, when he blew lightly against her wet folds, she relented and opened her legs for him.
His fingers spread her lips and his tongue flicked lightly over her clitoris, causing Hermione to buck and yell out. She could only take a few moments of his mouth on her before she craved something more. Luckily for her, he seemed to want the same thing, because he began kissing back up her body, his eyes blazing for her like Bluebell flames. He sat up on the bed, looking at her as if he was trying to find the answer to a question he was afraid to ask. She leaned over and kissed him, pushing his trousers and pants off over his bum.
He stood quickly and removed the remnants of clothing, as Hermione blushed a little, but inwardly marveled at his long body. He was dusted with freckles and her lips itched to kiss every single one. He wasn’t necessarily muscular like the men in Witch Weekly, but the definition in his shoulders was still alluring to her. His legs were long and thin, moving upward to his hips, a line of muscle darting down each side of his groin. Red hair donned the area around his large, pink member. Hermione thought he was absolutely perfect.
At last, his flushing face met hers on the bed in a searing kiss. She clung tightly to him as he laid her back against the bed, his hand holding onto the back of her head.
“Are you sure this is okay, love.” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers while his breathing remained labored and his face began to glow with sweat.
All Hermione could do was nod and let a lump travel down her throat. Ron put one hand on her cheek while the other one held him up, and kissed her softly, his body pressing against hers in amazing heat and comfort. Hermione’s legs came up and her knees rested on either side of his hips causing her center to press against his throbbing erection.
He let out a small, sobbing laugh and kissed her again, his cock pressing against her entrance. She closed her eyes. As she felt Ron begin to enter her, her hands gripped his shoulders in anticipation. As he deepened, she heard an amazingly feral sound come from his lips, his voice moaning near her ear. She was looking forward to hearing him make that sound over and over again.
However, as he slowly thrust all the way into her Hermione began to feel a painful burning sensation between her legs. She tensed up and closed her eyes again, trying to keep her tears away. This was a good pain, it mean change, love, and devotion. Hermione clung to Ron more tightly as it occurred to her how close she had come to having to feel this pain with someone who didn’t love her -- someone who only wanted to torture her. Ron’s heavy breathing against her neck and the hard planes of his back on her hands brought tears to her eyes - tears of joy that mingled with the ones born of pain.
Ron thrust again and the pain spiked. She cried out, though she was trying very hard to suppress her voice. He leaned back and looked at her, his hips slowing their motion as his lips brushed against her wet cheeks.
“It’s okay. We’re okay. Just tell me if it hurts you too much,” he said, picking up his pace again.
The sharp pain soon subsided as Ron’s pace increased and his shoulders tightened. Hermione bucked up against him.
“Oh Merlin!” he shouted, dropping down on his elbows and gripping the pillows on either side of her head. His moans were a mixture of groans and cries, the intensity in his deep voice rumbling in her chest. They slowed to a steadier rhythm and he opened his eyes. She felt his gaze upon her face even though her own eyes were still closed. One of his hands moved slowly to her breasts as he began massaging them, even though his fingertips were still shaking.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, dipping his head down to tease one of her nipples with his tongue. Hermione ground her hips back against him, trying to feel every inch of him, every sinew of his body. She felt worshipped, cherished, and safe.
“Oh Ron!” she cried, reaching up to capture his lips. At the sound of his name, he moaned louder, his pace becoming erratic.
“So good,” he groaned, the pitch of his voice picking up with each moan.
“Ron,” she whispered over and over again. She could feel his body clench and she grabbed his face so his eyes met hers.
She felt his cock twitch inside her, and gasped in shock and pleasure. He buried his head against her neck as he spilled inside her. When his heartbeat and breathing slowed, he looked up and Hermione reached to brush some fringe out of his face. He smiled shyly and kissed her.
When he rolled off of her and lay on his side to face her, she rolled over and pressed her chest to his and sighed when his hands wrapped around her bare waist. She could already feel herself slipping off to sleep when she whispered, “I love you…forever.”
“Always…always…”
Author: EruditeFics
Pairings: R/Hr, H/G, George/Angelina
Chapter: You're gonna be alright
Rating: R now NC-17
Warnings: Strong sexual content. Little violence and Language now.
Summary: Ron Weasley's composure hangs by a thread after the final battle. When it breaks, what else will be broken?
In this chapter: A proposal, a turkey sandwich, and sex on office furniture....in no particular order. Big thanks to my beta Ed for helping me to complete this work!
Love me with an open heart,
Tell me everything.
It was a hot day, even for June. Angelina Johnson had tried every cooling charm she could think of, but was still soaked with sweat. It didn’t help that she had to keep lifting heavy boxes, because there wasn’t enough room in the Wheeze’s storeroom to safely levitate the boxes. Still they needed to get things back in order, and Angelina was nothing if not organized. She was relieved when she had finally moved the last box and she was able to take a moment to wipe the sweat from her face with the end of her tee shirt.
“Got some more boxes for ya, Angie!” George yelled, and Angelina’s entire body seemed to wilt. When he came to the back room empty-handed and winked at her, she pretended she didn’t understand how the loose box of skiving snackboxes hit George upside the head. He ran at her in mock anger, wagging his finger dramatically.
“Ahh that’s better,” he said, putting an equally sweaty arm around her. “I can finally see the desk again!” he exclaimed, and before Angelina could even say ‘you’re welcome’, he had crashed his lips against hers.
As was usually the case when she was with George, Angelina instantly flooded with desire. Not even worried about her sweaty body anymore, she pressed against him and let her tongue dance in circles around his. He moaned, wrapping his hand around her neck to deepen their kiss. His other hand moved up her shirt.
“So this is my payment for an afternoon of work? I want a raise!” she smirked, her hand moving to his groin.
“Mmm. How about a bonus, you cheeky witch?” He said, pulling her tee shirt over her head. His hands cupped her breasts, causing both to moan eagerly.
She ran her hands up and down his back before pulling his shirt off. She kissed his chest, enjoying his smooth skin and the pattern of freckles that were uniquely George. She quickly undid his trousers, lowering herself to her knees. She moved his shorts down slowly, just to tease him a little.
When she finally wrapped her fingers around his cock, his hips bucked and he stifled a cry deep in his throat. She saw him point his wand at the door, hiding them safely from the world and whatever might be happening outside. She darted out her tongue to taste the salty sweet liquid weeping from his head. He gripped her shoulder hard.
“Oh Angie!” he moaned when she let his erection slide into her mouth. “So good,” he whimpered between groans.
She reached a hand around to grip his perfect, round arse while she ran a stiff tongue along the underside of his shaft.
“Oh fuck!” he yelled when she began to suck in harder and she dug her nails into his flesh.
Angelina loved any excuse to touch him, to taste him. They had only had a few days of ‘official’ dating, but the pair had been doing things like this since Seventh Year. She had loved him back then, but was too afraid she might lose him by confessing her feelings. Now, however, she could enjoy him in all the ways she wanted.
“Merlin, Angie, you’re…oh…” he mumbled. Suddenly, his tense hands pulled her up and he kissed her exuberantly. “This is supposed to be your bonus,” he whispered, pushing her back. To her surprise, she landed on the newly visible desk.
George pulled off her shorts and knickers in one smooth motion and lay over her to kiss her neck, his erection begging for entrance. He leaned back and threw one of her long legs over his shoulder, the accompanying rush of wind bringing a whiff of her intoxicating scent, accentuating her hot arousal.
“I love you,” he whispered before his length filled her and she cried out his name.
He fucked her hard, withdrawing almost completely from her before entering once again in a mind-blowing rapid series of movements. His hands were over hers, which were gripping the sides of the desk.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he grunted, continuing to slam into her.
Angelina could feel her body begin to tense, to feel the wave of pleasure starting to loom inside of her. “Oh George!” she called out, unable to say anything else.
“Come for me, Angelina,” he whispered into her ear. It was all she needed for her whole body to seize up and cause her to yell.
Angelina’s release brought George’s building climax to a simultaneous peak. “Fuck,” he moaned, riding out their orgasms together.
When at last their breathing slowed, he gently moved off her. He gathered her clothes silently but stared lovingly at her as she slid on her knickers. He pulled on his shorts and then wrapped his arms around her waist, settling her close to his chest.
“So what do I get if I do inventory?” she asked slightly.
“Angie, listen,” George said, suddenly serious.
Anxiety began to pound in her chest, but Angelina forced herself to remain composed.
“I know we’ve just officially started dating, but you love me, right?” he asked, his light brown eyes pleading with her.
“Of course, George, more than anything,” she answered earnestly.
In response, George released the breath he was holding.
“And I live for you,” he croaked.
Angelina knew that was more than a euphemism on some of his worst days, so she pulled him closer to her.
George ran his hand along the side of her face, becoming increasingly nervous with each passing moment.
“George, what?” Angelina asked, but she couldn’t finish the sentence because George had dropped to one knee.
She gasped and a very confused purple pygmy puff suddenly descended from the ceiling on a string. Tied to a bow on his its back was a beautiful ring with a diamond flanked by two magenta stones. She stood shocked as the pygmy puff continued to dangle in front of her.
George undid the ribbon and held the ring in his hands.
“Will you marry me, and let me love you forever?” he asked, taking her hand.
“Yes,” she said clearly, though tears were forming in her eyes.
He stood, slipped the ring on her finger, and pulled her into the best hug of her life.
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Ron wasn’t just worried. He was scared. He had to meet Hermione at Fred and…well … George’s shop in 30 minutes. He couldn’t silence the fear echoing in his mind at the thought of Hermione being alone in such a crowded area.
She had insisted on doing this on her own, and he knew it was best for her to get back on her feet. However that didn’t stop him from imagining her injured, alone, and scared. He clenched his fists and began his third round of pacing through the alley and checking his watch.
His worry was only magnified by the fact that Runcorn’s trial was beginning in an hour. Soon, Hermione’s ordeal would be put on display, and though it was a closed trial, even he wasn’t sure he could stand the thought of reliving such a horrible experience. He also knew that if he felt this strongly about the situation, it had to be much, much harder on her.
Ron had to remind himself that she had insisted on coming alone, saying that the benefits of seeing justice served would far outweigh the pain of reliving the horrible things that had happened.
Ron wasn’t sure he could keep himself from murdering the monster if he had to see Runcorn’s face again.
At exactly three o’clock, he hurried into the shop. Relief washed over him when he saw her bushy brown hair near the back room of the shop. However, when he finally saw her face, there were tears. He reached for her, but she raised her hands and pointed toward the slightly opened door.
George was on one knee in front of Angelina, a pygmy puff dangling between them. The oddest thing was that she was in jean shorts and a bra, he in his boxers. She must have said yes, because the next moment, they were embracing.
Ron was so ecstatically proud of George. He had been worried that his brother might be beyond repair, but seeing him hold her, he knew there was still hope. Overwhelmed with joy, Ron couldn’t help but begin to clap. Hermione started setting off cheering charms around the shop.
“What’s all the cheering for?” Ginny asked, making her way through the shop, Harry in tow.
“I’m getting fucking married!” George said, bouncing up and down.
Ginny let out a high pitched squeal and made a beeline for Angelina. “Welcome to the family,” she exclaimed, embracing Angelina tightly.
Moments later, Harry joined them, hugging Angelina’s shirtless form with a little less enthusiasm.
Meanwhile, Hermione had given George a warm embrace.
“Oi! You keep your naked hands off her!” Ron said, grinning. This earned him a bare-skinned hug as well.
After a celebratory glass of firewhiskey, they finally got George to put his clothes back on. As the time to testify grew near, however, the mood darkened a bit.
“Are you guys ready to go?” Harry asked timidly.
George and Angelina nodded, gathering their things.
Ron looked at Hermione. She had a pensive expression on her face, the kind he often studied secretively while she was reading. He put a hand on her back to encourage her, to comfort her.
“I’m actually quite famished. I haven’t been eating well lately, but I’d rather eat than sit in that courtroom for hours,” she said, without a hint of sadness or apprehension in her voice.
“Anything you want, love,” Ron answered, taking her hand. They walked out of the shop while the others stared after them in shock. Ron looked back, smiled, and signaled that everyone else should go ahead.
They walked along Diagon Alley in a comfortable silence. The day was sunny and warm, and Hermione’s face seemed to be bathed in a yellow light. Ron wasn’t about to question her decision; he was too relieved himself to not have to go and look at the pathetic disgusting face of the man who hurt Hermione. She looked serene, too at ease with herself, and he didn’t want to risk whatever put her in that mood. After days of worry, he loved just seeing her smile.
“What are you in the mood for? Steak? Sausage? Fish and chips?” Ron asked, his own mouth watering.
“Actually, I could really go for a turkey sandwich,” she said thoughtfully.
“Then we have to go to The Burrow! I’m a pro at turkey sandwiches. Just don’t change your mind and ask for corned beef when we get there,” he said with mild disgust.
Hermione chuckled lightly.
They Disapparated immediately, arriving moments later just outside the Burrow and walked in quietly. The house was still and silent.
“Where is everyone?” she asked, her voice nearly matching the silence of the kitchen.
“The trial, I suppose,” Ron answered, fishing out all of the ingredients he needed: Mum’s homemade bread, cheddar, mayo, mustard, lettuce and some roast turkey. In no time at all, he had prepared two flawless sandwiches while she set out two cups of ice-cold pumpkin juice.
Ron almost forgot his own meal as he watched Hermione eat her sandwich with gusto. There was something comforting about seeing her eat. It was like everything was going to be okay now because Hermione Granger loved her turkey sandwich. It was then, of course, when he remembered he was starving and quickly caught up with her.
When they were both finished, Ron let out a big, elaborate stretch and patted his belly. Hermione yawned, but her eyes didn’t look tired at all. In fact, she seemed a little nervous. Ron quickly thought of ways to ease her mood.
“Wanna catch a nap while the house is quiet?” he asked, putting an arm around her. Her eyes got wide, a blush crept to her cheeks, and then she nodded. When they got to his bedroom door, she paused, shaking slightly.
“Hermione! You don’t have to sleep in here. I can set you up in Ginny’s room if you would like,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She shook her head fervently, so he guided her into his room and readied his bed for a nice, summer nap. She sat down next to him, reaching up for his face.
Her hand was so soft and warm that Ron couldn’t help but close his eyes and lean into her touch. Suddenly, she was kissing him. He kissed her back joyfully, never wanting the moment to end. She moved into his lap, one leg on either side of his hips, and pulled away while she attempted to find her words. As he waited, Ron ran a hand through her hair.
“I just…well…I don’t want to just live with this. I don’t want to just overcome something and have it always linger,” she said with determination.
“I understand, love,” Ron said, despite not fully understanding.
“You know, seeing George and Angelina so happy made me want the same thing so bad,” she said, closing her eyes as though she was imagining it.
Ron panicked a little, but if it would keep her even this happy, he’d buy her a ring and marry her today. He knew he was going to ask her eventually anyway. He continued to play with her hair as she resumed.
“I want to move on, not just get over it,” Hermione continued. “I don’t want to be stuck in this place. George is moving on from his pain, and I should be just as strong.
“You are, love. It’s only been a few days and you’re doing so great!” Ron encouraged.
“I know. I feel better. I just want life to move forward. We’ve lost too much and gave too much of ourselves to the war effort. So, starting right now, I am not wasting even of it,” she said, kissing him again.
Ron pulled back to meet her eyes. He needed to make sure that she understood he wasn’t going anywhere.
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If you gamble everything for love
If you gamble everything for love
If you gamble everything for love
You gonna be alright, alright
“I know it’s going to be a while before you are completely recovered, but as long as I can hold you, I’ll be fine,” he said softly.
Hermione understood what he meant. Any person with even a cursory knowledge of psychology would know that the recovery period for this type of thing would take a very long time. But time was something Hermione didn’t want to waste. After so many years of fighting for her world, for her friends and family, she had come to realize that every single moment holds value. Waiting very long time just wasn’t an option.
She knew there would be some residual pain and a few imprints left from that fearful time, but Ron’s gentle touch and his calming eyes had banished them all into shadow.
Hermione placed her hands on Ron’s face as he cautiously kissed her palms. She mustered up the fountains of courage that were housed in her chest and kissed him with every ounce of love and passion she possessed.
Ron sat stiffly for a moment, obviously worried that she had gone around the twist again, but relaxed when her thumbs ran along his stubbled face.
“Hermione,” he whispered, taking her face in his hands. He kissed her carefully, sliding his lips softly over hers and letting one of his hands firmly plant in her hair. He nudged his nose along her jaw and inhaled deeply. When his lips found their way to her neck, she responded by moaning very slightly.
His answering groan took her by surprise as he laid her back against the bed and she felt his tongue slide across her lips. The feeling of his tongue dancing with hers lit a fire underneath her and every semblance of Runcorn seemed to fade as Ron’s face flooded all of her conscious thoughts.
“Hey,” his voice cracked and she turned to look in his wide eyes. “Are you alright?” he asked anxiously, not wanting or able to elaborate on that question.
“Yes. I’m okay. It’s okay. I just want you,” Hermione said, shocked by her own forwardness. Ron’s entire face flushed and his eyes filled with doubt, but he laid his body back over hers and pressed his face against her bare shoulders, kissing them lightly.
“I promise I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll do whatever I can to keep anyone else from hurting you too,” he croaked, gazing at her reverently. His grip on her tightened, as though he was afraid she would disappear again.
Hermione pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him until she lost all sense of time. She wrapped her legs around his waist and couldn’t help but gasp when she felt his erection pressed against her center. Ron pulled away from her lips, apology evident on his face.
Hermione thrust her hips up into his, and he closed his eyes and bit his lip. She loved the way he looked: his lips bright red and every inch of his body fighting for control over his reactions. When he thrust his hips back down again, they both moaned.
He kissed her hard this time, his mouth engulfing hers hungrily. Her hands found their way inside his shirt and pressed against the burning skin of his sides.
“Mmmm,” he groaned, his hips against hers, moving back and forth in rhythm. His hand ran lightly down her neck, his fingertips grazing her pulse point. He slipped the strap of her top off her shoulder and kissed her exposed skin. His lips, his touch, and the look in his eyes were all so soft that all the darkness in the world seemed to disappear. When his lips found the swell of her breasts, her hips lifted off of the bed and pressed hard into his erection.
“Gods, Hermione,” Ron whispered, his upper arms shaking as his quivering fingers moved away the fabric of her bra to expose her nipples. His hand covered her breast gently, and this time his hips quickened their pace against her clothed center. He reached behind and fumbled for only a few seconds before unhooking her bra and removing it completely.
Hermione’s back arched when his lips closed over her nipple and his tongue flitted across her flesh. She fisted her hand in his hair as she had imagined doing throughout many nights alone in her bunk. She let the silken strands overtake her fingers. When Ron went to lift her shirt off of her body, she more than eagerly complied.
Hermione tugged at Ron’s shirt and pulled it over his head, not bothering with buttons. When the warmth of his skin pressed against her own coolness, the feeling nearly overwhelmed her.
She felt Ron’s body writhing against her as she echoed his movements, her lips grazing the soft flesh of his neck as his breath became rushed. Soon, she could feel his heart pounding against her. She was concerned until she looked up at his face and saw his hair cascading into his eyes, his lips parting, and his cheeks burning bright red.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Hermione,” he groaned, his voice choking in his throat as his body stiffened.
“I love you too,” he said, kissing every spot on her face. He sat up, looking embarrassed, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes as he cast a cleansing charm on his trousers.
His eyes finally met hers and he smiled shyly, that smirk giving Hermione more hope than the most powerful Patronus. His face fell as his eyes swept slowly down her body. Hermione covered herself out of instinct.
“No, Hermione,” he said firmly, moving the blanket back off of her. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. These scars are nothing. They just show me how strong you are…how incredible you are.”
Luckily he had begun to kiss the long scar across her stomach and couldn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t feel strong. She needed Ron to banish Runcorn from her mind, and sometimes it felt like she needed Ron’s presence just to breathe. Would he still love her if he knew how weak she was, how needy she felt?
The fearful reasoning left her head when she felt Ron’s fingertips toying with the waistline of her shorts. Ron’s fingers tucked under the thin fabric as he went to pull them off her hips. Anticipating that the pause was due to uncertainty, she lifted her hips off the bed allowing him to slip her shorts over her feet, leaving her only in knickers.
She felt his face pressed against her thigh, breathing in deeply. His thumbs traced her scars while his lips traveled back up her body. His hand rested on her hips and he kissed her repeatedly. His fingers slipped over her mound, touching her through her panties, as their breathing seemed to cease simultaneously.
“Is this okay, love? Did he hurt you…here…too?” he asked while his voice suppressed crying out to her in fear.
Hermione’s heart seemed to leap from her chest as his fingers pressed more firmly against her. “No, Ron, no. He never…he tried…but he…” Hermione could barely stand the need for his touch to deepen.
Ron’s fingers moved her knickers to the side, slipped between her lips, and brushed against her clit. She cried out as he moaned into her shoulder. He rubbed that spot for a few delicious moments as she writhed beneath him.
When he slid one finger inside her, her body began to tense, an automatic response of fear and apprehension. She longed for him to move, to touch her more deeply, but she seemed unable to move, unable to speak, unable to breath.
“Hermione,” he whispered, kissing around her ear and down her jaw. “I won’t hurt you and I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” He repeated the mantra.
Her body relaxed, allowing Ron to slide another finger inside. The tightness was both wonderful and painful, so Hermione opened her legs wider on instinct. His fingers shifted against her walls sending a jolt throughout her bones. He twisted his hand, and as he did so, his wrist brushed against the sensitive nub between her lips and she cried out, her hips grinding into his hand.
Ron lifted his head from her neck and smiled a genuine, toothy grin. That smirk sent Hermione’s head spinning and made her heart burst. He leaned down and kissed her softly.
Then, she felt his thumb move lightly across her clit and her fingers dug into his shoulders as she cried out yet again. He continued until she felt her body tense and a wave of pleasure roll over her. She whispered his name when the quivering subsided and he muttered “so beautiful” in the vicinity of her ear.
Ron rolled onto his side and pulled her close, his head resting on top of hers. She let her heartbeat slow as she lay in the safety of his arms and her hands ran lazily along the bare skin of his back. She could feel his desire for her building again and her curiosity peaked. She was shocked and pleased that she wasn’t the only one whose body was so drawn to the other. She began to play with the waist of his jeans, and when her hand ran over his rounded bum, his hips bucked again.
She bravely undid the button on his trousers and slowly released the zipper, her own hands trembling with nerves.
“Hermione, you don’t have to just because,” Ron started, though he couldn’t suppress a moan when her hand reached down his shorts and she grazed his hipbone.
Hermione was touched but a little frustrated by his statement. She knew that he was trying to keep her relaxed, trying to erase any fears or lingering anxiety, but she just wanted to feel him. She wanted to love him like he loved her.
“I need to touch you, Ron.” She said, pressing her hands on his shoulders to encourage him to lie on his back.
Hermione’s hand wrapped around Ron and her breath froze. He was hard and soft, warm and smooth, but most importantly he was Ron. She relished the chance to make him feel good. She began to move her hand up and down while Ron’s lips clenched tightly shut, like he was holding back, not fully letting go. She moved her thumb around the soft tip of his cock.
“Fuck!” he grunted, his hands gripping either side of the mattress. Hermione continued on with similar motions and watched him, devouring him as if he was an ancient text. She could see his ribs come down from his lightly muscled chest to rest on his abdomen. His stomach clenched and unclenched with each stroke of her hand, and the fluid motion of his tight, lean body mesmerized her. His long arms spanned her entire bed, and Hermione longed for his large hands to be all over her again. She leaned down to kiss around his navel and his hand ran tensely over her neck and shoulders.
He sat up to look at her, leaning up on his arms, shaking as she continued to grip his cock. His eyes were burning as they met hers, and the stare alone caused heat to flare up between her legs. He kissed her as he turned her body more fully toward him. When her breasts were exposed, his mouth lavished each with attention as he moaned and thrust into her hands.
Slowly, he guided her back down the bed and she was forced to remove her hand…slightly frustrated again.
“You feel so good,” he breathed, kissing across her collarbone as he gazed at her. “I didn’t want to…well…” He said, and kissed her scar again, stopping to slowly pull down her panties.
“I want to taste you,” Ron whispered, touching her center with his entire hand.
Hermione was shocked. Of course, she desperately wanted him to kiss her there, but she was a little apprehensive about him being in such uncharted territory. However, when he blew lightly against her wet folds, she relented and opened her legs for him.
His fingers spread her lips and his tongue flicked lightly over her clitoris, causing Hermione to buck and yell out. She could only take a few moments of his mouth on her before she craved something more. Luckily for her, he seemed to want the same thing, because he began kissing back up her body, his eyes blazing for her like Bluebell flames. He sat up on the bed, looking at her as if he was trying to find the answer to a question he was afraid to ask. She leaned over and kissed him, pushing his trousers and pants off over his bum.
He stood quickly and removed the remnants of clothing, as Hermione blushed a little, but inwardly marveled at his long body. He was dusted with freckles and her lips itched to kiss every single one. He wasn’t necessarily muscular like the men in Witch Weekly, but the definition in his shoulders was still alluring to her. His legs were long and thin, moving upward to his hips, a line of muscle darting down each side of his groin. Red hair donned the area around his large, pink member. Hermione thought he was absolutely perfect.
At last, his flushing face met hers on the bed in a searing kiss. She clung tightly to him as he laid her back against the bed, his hand holding onto the back of her head.
“Are you sure this is okay, love.” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers while his breathing remained labored and his face began to glow with sweat.
All Hermione could do was nod and let a lump travel down her throat. Ron put one hand on her cheek while the other one held him up, and kissed her softly, his body pressing against hers in amazing heat and comfort. Hermione’s legs came up and her knees rested on either side of his hips causing her center to press against his throbbing erection.
He let out a small, sobbing laugh and kissed her again, his cock pressing against her entrance. She closed her eyes. As she felt Ron begin to enter her, her hands gripped his shoulders in anticipation. As he deepened, she heard an amazingly feral sound come from his lips, his voice moaning near her ear. She was looking forward to hearing him make that sound over and over again.
However, as he slowly thrust all the way into her Hermione began to feel a painful burning sensation between her legs. She tensed up and closed her eyes again, trying to keep her tears away. This was a good pain, it mean change, love, and devotion. Hermione clung to Ron more tightly as it occurred to her how close she had come to having to feel this pain with someone who didn’t love her -- someone who only wanted to torture her. Ron’s heavy breathing against her neck and the hard planes of his back on her hands brought tears to her eyes - tears of joy that mingled with the ones born of pain.
Ron thrust again and the pain spiked. She cried out, though she was trying very hard to suppress her voice. He leaned back and looked at her, his hips slowing their motion as his lips brushed against her wet cheeks.
“It’s okay. We’re okay. Just tell me if it hurts you too much,” he said, picking up his pace again.
The sharp pain soon subsided as Ron’s pace increased and his shoulders tightened. Hermione bucked up against him.
“Oh Merlin!” he shouted, dropping down on his elbows and gripping the pillows on either side of her head. His moans were a mixture of groans and cries, the intensity in his deep voice rumbling in her chest. They slowed to a steadier rhythm and he opened his eyes. She felt his gaze upon her face even though her own eyes were still closed. One of his hands moved slowly to her breasts as he began massaging them, even though his fingertips were still shaking.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, dipping his head down to tease one of her nipples with his tongue. Hermione ground her hips back against him, trying to feel every inch of him, every sinew of his body. She felt worshipped, cherished, and safe.
“Oh Ron!” she cried, reaching up to capture his lips. At the sound of his name, he moaned louder, his pace becoming erratic.
“So good,” he groaned, the pitch of his voice picking up with each moan.
“Ron,” she whispered over and over again. She could feel his body clench and she grabbed his face so his eyes met hers.
She felt his cock twitch inside her, and gasped in shock and pleasure. He buried his head against her neck as he spilled inside her. When his heartbeat and breathing slowed, he looked up and Hermione reached to brush some fringe out of his face. He smiled shyly and kissed her.
When he rolled off of her and lay on his side to face her, she rolled over and pressed her chest to his and sighed when his hands wrapped around her bare waist. She could already feel herself slipping off to sleep when she whispered, “I love you…forever.”
“Always…always…”