Come In From the Rain, Ron/Hermione, NC-17
Author: anamchara
Challenge: # 25 - Rain
Title: Come In From The Rain
Summary: Rainy afternoons don't have to be lonely. Ron thinks that Hermione's gone off on a date. He decides to drown his sorrows with alcohol and rain, but not everything is as it seems.
Warning: Sexually explicit fic
Word Count: 4,330
Rating: Adult/Mature/NC-17
Notes: I apologise for the extreme lateness of this fic. That'll teach me not to sign up for ficathons again.
Come In From The Rain
By anamchara
Ron sat outside, on the steps to the Burrow. At the moment, he was alone. Hermione lived there as well. She had since they’d left Hogwarts, and the war had raged on. But tonight, she…well, she wasn’t there.
Ron was tired. Tired of the rain that had soaked him through, just seconds after he’d stepped outside. Tired of the emptiness of the Burrow, now that Ginny had moved into her own flat, and Mum and Dad had gone on holiday. Tired of the only recently-ended war, and tired of the aftermath.
Firewhisky helps, he thought, as he took another swig from the half empty bottle.
Of course, it was just an excuse to drink more, to hide from the one thing that kept him here, outside, in the rain.
Hermione. And the reason she wasn’t there.
Taking another pull from the bottle, Ron almost missed the pop that signified someone Apparating or Disapparating. Almost.
If it’d been any person but Hermione, he would’ve missed it. But with her, he’d long become accustomed to the sound of her. She had a unique sound for everything. Apparation was no different. And Ron knew it well.
Ron didn’t turn to face her. Instead, he stood, walked further into the rain, and raised the bottle to his lips, taking another gulp of the fiery liquid. Ignoring her was what he did second best.
“Ron.”
He heard her, even above the drum of rain against the roof and and the whistle of wind through the trees. But he didn’t reply.
“Ronald,” Hermione said again, her voice rising in volume and sounding more aggravated.
When he still didn’t acknowledge her, she stepped close and grabbed him by the wrist. “Ron, look at me.” Her chest was heaving, confusion and irritation evident in every quick breath she took and every sharp word she said. “What are you doing out here? What’s got into you?”
Irritated, Ron glared down at her. “None of your bloody business,” he said. “I’m a grown Wizard. I can do whatever the hell I like, and it’s no concern of yours, is it?” Droplets of rain ran down his face to drip from his chin. He was soaked through, but didn’t feel the cold as his blood boiled with renewed anger. “Leave me be.”
Hermione gasped, looking as though he’d struck her. She quickly set her lips into a thin line. “You’re a right stupid git, you know that? What is it you think I’ve done to you now?” She stood with her hands on her hips and her chin raised, unwittingly doing a dead perfect imitation of Molly Weasley whenever one of her children had misbehaved.
Despite the rain that continued to pound down around them, Hermione remained perfectly dry beneath the hood of her cloak. Figures, Ron thought, bitterly. Never let it be said that Hermione Granger’d go anywhere in foul weather without performing a series of protection charms to keep her dry.
“Well?” Hermione was looking at him with a quirked brow, which might’ve appeared comical had Ron not already been in the mood for a row.
“Well what?” he said, leaning into her space, irrationally hopeful that some of the water dripping from him might penetrate her defence work. “I’ve nothing to say to you. What are you here for besides? It’s early still. Shouldn’t you be out shagging Tobias Hawthorne right now?” He screwed up his face into a sneer.
“Sod off, Ron,” she said. “You’re not worth this conversation.” Her voice had suddenly gone quieter, the hurt he’d purposefully inflicted ringing clear through her words.
She turned from him.
Surprised at her language, even as he realised she’d long since been influenced hanging about with him and Harry, Ron’s eyes widened. He felt little of the satisfaction he’d hoped to feel by hurting her.
Ron moved then, quicker than he expected he could, considering the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. He reached out, pulling her back around with a hand on her upper arm. “No, wait,” he said, his voice more pleading than angry, more defeated than irate.
Hermione stared at his hand on her arm, noticing the wet patch growing around it. Of course her rain-repelling spells had no effect on bodily contact with something or someone wet.
“Please,” Ron said. “Please don’t go.”
Hermione looked up at him then. Her expression remained frozen. “Why?” The single word fell between them, cracking Ron’s armour.
“I’m sorry, Hermione. I am.” Ron’s expression pleaded with her to believe him. “I didn’t mean it. Don’t leave.”
Hermione bit her bottom lip, waiting as several tense moments passed before she spoke. “I don’t understand what you want, Ron. What is it you want from me?”
Ron let go of her arm, dropping the whisky bottle to the ground, uncaring. He looked toward his feet, causing even more wet drops to fall from his hair, nose and chin. He blinked to clear his vision.
“Ron?” Hermione spoke again, just loud enough to be heard.
Haltingly, Ron spoke. “Did you - and Tobias - I mean…oh bloody hell.” He paused, running a hand through his hair, spraying water in the process. “Did you have a…good date with him?” His voice sounded resigned.
Hermione furrowed her brows, seemingly confused by the sudden change in Ron’s demeanor. “I wasn’t…who told you I had a date?”
Ron looked back at her face, his own confusion growing. “Ginny. I rang her on that bloody telephone thing you’ve got hooked up here. Wanted to see how she was doing in her new flat.” Ron cleared his throat before continuing. “She…I think Harry was, um, visiting.” Ron flushed as he gazed out toward the distance. The memories of that blasted conversation flooding his mind all over again. “I yelled at her, saying she was too ruddy young to be having men over to her flat.”
Hermione spoke in a monotone when Ron didn’t continue. “What does that have to do with me?”
Ron returned his gaze to her. “I hacked her off. She said I’d no call to be interfering in her love life, and that if I wanted to be so nosy, I’d best look closer to home.” Ron closed his eyes as he continued, pain seeping into him at the thought. “She said you’d gone out on a date with Tobias Hawthorne, and that I hadn’t the right to be keeping tabs on either of your social lives.” Ron laughed mirthlessly. “Then she hung up on me, the irrational twit.”
Hermione frowned. “Ron, I understand she’s your sister, and you want to protect her, but she’s right. You’ve no business yelling at her for spending time with Harry, or whomever she wants. She’s a grown woman now.” She paused before lifting her chin to meet his gaze, her eyes flashing. “We both are. And you’ve no good reason to be meddling, wondering who I’m dating either, have you?”
Her words sounded challenging to Ron, rekindling his ire. “Of course I’ve good cause to be worrying. In case you’ve not noticed, there are still Death Eaters on the loose. Dark Magic hasn’t gone away, just since Voldemort’s been gone.” He narrowed his eyes until they were mere slits, framed by wet clumps of dark lashes. “So as her brother, it’s my job to keep her safe, isn’t it?”
Hermione stomped her foot into the wet ground, causing muddy water to fly upward and splatter them both. “For Merlin’s sake, Ron, would you listen to yourself? You sound like some throwback from the Medieval era. Some women are actually able to take care of themselves!”
Ron made to interrupt her, but was cut off as she continued unabated. “Besides which, even if Ginny needs looking after, who says I do? We both know I’m clever and strong enough to defend myself, and though you’ve not seemed to cotton on to the fact, I am not your sister!”
“I know that!” Ron shouted at her. Glaring at her, he wondered what he’d done wrong in apologising. He knew Hermione wasn’t his sister.
Pushing that thought aside, Ron chose to focus on what she’d said. “When has it become so horrible a crime to want to look after my family?”
Hermione said nothing, her mouth a thin frown.
Running a hand through his wet hair exasperatedly, Ron continued on at her silence. “Hermione, so help me, what are you so fussed about? I apologised, didn’t I? I’m sorry for being so nasty to you when you got back. I’ve had a hell of a bad day. I’m wet and cold and tired. So please, for the love of Merlin, why are you so angry?” He tried, fruitlessly, to wipe at the rain that’d got in his eyes.
Hermione rolled her eyes heavenward and huffed out a loud sigh. “Ron Weasley, you are the most daft person on the planet! How, after all these years, can you still not understand why treating me like your sister would make me upset? How can one person be so barmy?”
Ron stumbled backwards a bit, stunned at her outburst. “Hermione, I…”
“No, Ron,” she said, her tone clipped and authoritative. “You want my help figuring this out? Fine. Here it is. I was not on a date with Tobias Hawthorne. Ginny told you that out of spite because you were being a prat to her.” Hermione raised a hand to keep him quiet when he would’ve spoken. “He and I are business collegues, Ron. We work together. That is all. This dinner - this date - was a business dinner. Nothing more.” She turned to walk back towards the house.
“Wait,” Ron said, above the din of the rain and wind.
Hermione stopped and slowly turned back to face him but remained silent, eyebrows slanting upward in an expression of hesitant curiosity.
Ron’s desperation hardened his features. “Hermione…that’s not all. Please. I’m tired of fighting.” His shoulders slumped in defeat. He believed that if he let her just walk away without resolving this, they never would, and he was tired of waiting.
For a moment, Hermione seemed conflicted. Then, her resolve hardened and she took a small step towards him. “You’re right,” she said, her shaky voice gradually growing stronger. “There is more. All of this upsets me. I’m twenty-one years old and I’ve known you almost half my life. Yet the most feeling you can muster to show me is that of a brother trying to keep his sister out of harm’s way.” She took another step closer. “You say you’re tired, Ron? Well, so am I. I’m tired of living with you but having you no closer than the loft. I’m tired of spending all my time and energy fighting with you over what I choose to do. Most of all, I’m tired of not being able to move on with my life because the man I’ve loved for most of it doesn’t have the sense to admit that he’s in love with me, as well.” She fell silent then but her gaze remained unwavering.
Ron almost fell backwards before he caught himself. Suddenly, everything he’d ever believed about himself and his relationship with the woman in front of him was there in the open. And for the life of him, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
So instead, he moved forward, one small step at a time, closer to Hermione. When he stood directly in front of her, he reached up a shaky hand to touch her cheek. He brushed his fingertips lightly over her skin, watching in delight as she inhaled sharply at the contact. Then, before he could let reason talk him out of it, he did the one thing he’d wanted to do since before their sixth year at Hogwarts. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
Hermione somehow gasped and sighed in the same breath, parting her lips. Ron took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, sweeping his tongue along the sensitive skin just inside her bottom lip.
Hermione startled Ron by reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It was all Ron needed as his mind swam with desire. He moved his hands down and around to Hermione’s back, pressing her lower body into close contact with his own, wanting her to know just how much he needed her.
Hermione rotated her hips, adding friction at the point where her body met his.
With a groan, Ron pulled back from Hermione’s mouth. “Fuck, Hermione,” he said, gasping. “Don’t do that unless you plan to…” He wasn’t sure what he meant to say. He just knew that too much of that would lead to him losing what little control he had.
“Plan to what? Shag you?” Hermione grinned, licking her lips. “You’re the only person I’ve ever seriously wanted, Ron. So if you don’t want to finish what you started, you’d best tell me now.” Her skin was flushed and her pupils were dilated.
“Are you mental?” Ron heard himself saying those words and almost laughed at how familiar they felt. A feeling of warmth spread through him as he realised how well he knew her, this amazing woman before him. Even if he’d always known she was mental.
“Of course I want…shite, Hermione, that’s all I’ve wanted for forever.” With those words, Ron pressed his lips to hers once more, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, desperate for the taste of her. He ran his hands up and down Hermione’s back. He needed to be touching her, everywhere, all at once, but there were too many things in the way. Clothes. Rain. Air.
Hermione reached down then, moving her hand to the button and zip of Ron’s sodden trousers. She undid the fastenings quickly, releasing Ron’s erection from its confines. He shuddered as her small fingers encircled his length. Pulling from her mouth, he choked out a low growl before reaching under her bum to lift her.
Immediately, Hermione wrapped her legs around Ron’s hips as she tugged at the collar of his shirt in an attempt to remove it. She was having difficulty as the wet cloth clung to Ron’s frame. Using one hand to hold her, Ron reached with the other to help lift his shirt off, dropping it to the muddy ground, forgotten.
“Inside,” Ron said, leaning in to kiss Hermione again. His tongue tangled with hers, both fighting for control and for dominance. Ron drew back, kissing down to her jaw and then her neck, nipping at the pulse point lightly.
Hermione tipped her head back to give him room. With one hand around Ron’s shoulders, she used the other to unclasp and discard her cloak. She followed this up by unbuttoning the red blouse she wore, allowing it to hang open.
Ron moved them slowly forward in the direction of the Burrow, as rain continued to pelt them. Hermione’s protection spells had been dispersed by the removal of her cloak. Her wild hair curled and tangled into wet clumps as the rain ran in rivulets down her face, chest and back.
Ron tugged at Hermione’s blouse, finally removing it with her help. The front-clasping bra soon followed, dropping from Hermione’s hand to the ground. Her hands were everywhere, traveling over Ron’s chest, back and arms. Finally, she used one hand to hitch her skirt further up her thighs.
They reached the side of the house. Ron pressed himself and Hermione against the wall, thrusting against the red lace that still separated them. He groaned then, deep in his throat. He drew away just long enough to speak, his voice harsh and full of emotion. “Inside. Need to get inside…”
Hermione shook her head before speaking, her own voice deeper than usual. “No, Ron. I want you now. Don’t want to…wait.” She opened her eyes, looking at him through her wet lashes.
Ron laughed with delight, his face turned skyward, before he looked back at her with an expression of awe. “God, I love you, Hermione.” His blue eyes twinkled with something akin to wonder and merriment. He leaned close again to whisper in her ear. “I meant…I need to get inside - you.” He drew back, his face flushed.
Hermione’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’ before she nodded quickly, smiling. “No more wasting time,” she said. “And I’ve loved you my whole life, you prat.” She leaned toward him, away from the wall, and licked his collarbone before working her way up his neck and chin to his mouth.
With one hand, Ron reached up under Hermione’s skirt to yank at the slip of fabric covering her. He pushed the knickers halfway past her bum when he lost what was left of his patience, and pulled, ripping them. He tossed them carelessly aside before moving his hand back to the juncture of her legs.
At his first touch, Hermione arched her back, pressing herself against his hand. She was slick and hot, and Ron was dizzy with lust as he pushed a finger inside. “Fuck,” he said aloud, the blood spinning through his veins and pulsing loudly in his ears. Nothing had ever felt this good, he thought. He moved his hand then, thrusting first one finger, then two, in time with the rain that beat against them.
“Oh, God,” Hermione said on a sigh. She reached between their bodies to take hold of Ron’s cock. She rubbed his length up and down while making indistinguishable sounds of need in her throat.
Finally, Ron removed his fingers. He pressed Hermione against the outside wall of the Burrow. Leaning down, he drew one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking hard. Hermione squealed and ground her hips against him.
Ron gasped for air as the intensity of the storm increased. Reaching between them, he guided his erection to her entrance, pushing the tip inside.
Hermione arched, squeezing his hips with her legs to draw him further in.
Ron kissed her, his tongue brushing against hers. He drew back only enough to taste the droplets of water in the crevice above her top lip. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said with his last coherent thought. “I never meant to wait so long to show you.” Then, with a sharp thrust, he was all the way inside.
Ron’s heart pounded, the blood coursing through his veins, driving him faster. He pulled halfway out, then thrust again.
With each movement, Hermione met him. She held on, pressing her breasts against his chest as she rode him, pulling him deeper on each thrust with her legs at his waist. She slid her hands into the dark auburn curls at the nape of Ron’s neck, bringing him to her for another searing kiss.
Lightning brightened the sky momentarily, followed by a loud clap of thunder which Ron felt shudder through him. The vibrations drove him harder and faster until, with a guttural moan, Ron came. He continued to thrust, calling out her name.
Reaching between them with one hand, Ron pressed his thumb to Hermione’s clit. He began to rub at that spot as he licked at her rain-soaked breasts. After several seconds, Hermione cried out, arching her back, her body thrumming and her muscles contracting around Ron.
Almost instantly, Ron was hard again. Still buried inside her, he continued to move slowly, allowing Hermione time to come down from her peak. He spoke into her shoulder. “Love you, Hermione.”
“I love you, Ron,” she said before pressing a kiss to his chest.
Ron moved one hand up to push the wet hair back from her face. He continued to thrust, languidly now, his other hand on the curve of her bottom.
Hermione moaned against his neck, the sound sending shivers down his spine. “Mmm, Ron,” she said. “Lie down for me.” She looked up at him, a smile on her face.
“Where?” Ron shook his head, spraying them both with more water.
Without another word, Hermione pushed back from the wall of the house. Ron lost his footing on the wet ground and slipped, landing on his back with her in his arms atop him. “Bloody hell, Hermione,” he said, his voice loud and rough. “Are you trying to kill us then?”
Rather than replying, she leaned forward, pressing him further into the muddy grass with a hand on each shoulder. Tossing her wet curls, she kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth with ardour.
Ron returned the kiss, biting and licking at her lips and tongue in a fiery duel. He reached up to feel the weight of her breasts with his hands. He flicked a thumb over each nipple, grinning smugly when this elicited a sexy moan from Hermione.
Hermione lifted her hips, sliding almost all the way off Ron, reaching between them to hold his cock in place. With a wicked grin on her face, she pressed herself back down, guiding Ron’s length back inside her. For several long seconds, she remained still, watching Ron lie beneath her on the wet grass.
Ron blinked as the rain pelted his face. He wanted to keep his eyes open, to see Hermione smiling as she held him there. But his limbs felt heavy and his mind seemed drugged. When she didn’t move, Ron became impatient and attempted to squirm, lifting his hips to encourage her.
Finally, Hermione shifted. She lifted herself up and down, driving Ron deeper with each movement. She slid her fingers down his chest, traveling over his ribs and stomach and back up. With a hand pressed to each arm, she began to grind faster against him. She rode him, her back arched, in time with the storm that raged around them.
Ron met her hips with his own, the sound of skin on skin reaching his ears above the noises of the wind. Eyes drifting closed, he reached out to touch her at the point where their bodies connected. He drew shapes with his hand against her most sensitive spot. He felt a thrill course through him when his ministrations resulted in quicker, almost jerky movements as she rose and lowered herself above him.
Hermione shook her head from side to side, letting the rain fall on her face as her movements came faster and more erratic.
Ron grunted, savouring the feel of being inside her, and having her ride him into orgasmic oblivion. He pushed harder, pressing his hand against her and thrusting his hips to meet hers.
Hermione moaned long and low. She arched up, pressing herself more fully into his hand. She moved one hand from Ron’s shoulder, tangling her fingers with Ron’s at the juncture of her thighs. She guided him, showing him where and how to touch her.
Ron ran his other hand up and down her leg, from hip to knee. He followed the movements of her fingers, as she touched herself, amazed at how incredibly sexy she looked with her head back and her fingers pressed against his on her most secret of places.
All at once, Hermione’s movements sped up and she tensed. A flush crept over her chest and face as she tossed her head from side to side. Her inner muscles pulsed, squeezing Ron’s cock. She keened, wordlessly, before collapsing against Ron’s chest.
Ron moved his hands to hug Hermione close to him. Softly, he pressed a kiss to the top of Hermione’s head before he sat up.
Hermione lifted her head from Ron’s chest as he did this, murmuring his name and kissing him. She wrapped her arms around his neck before leaning forward to kiss him again.
Ron kissed her back, pushing a lock of her wet hair back from her face. Then, he reached out with one hand, pulling her cloak to them. Without fully dislodging himself from her, he rolled them over onto Hermione’s cloak.
He pushed back in, holding himself there as Hermione’s muscles relaxed. He leaned down, kissing her deeply before he drew back. Slowly, he began to move, gradually thrusting faster as his own orgasm neared.
Hermione drew her knees closer to her, widening the space between her legs and changing the angle at which Ron was penetrating her. She brushed her fingers up and down his arms, pressing her lips to his chest, neck and jaw, where ever she could reach.
After only a few minutes, Ron tensed, moaning low in his throat. He pressed fully into her and held himself still as he climaxed. Breathing deeply, he withdrew, collapsing at Hermione’s side, their legs still twined together. He turned toward her, drawing her to him and kissing her.
“You’re amazing,” he said, his voice rough. “So fucking amazing.”
Hermione smiled lazily, reaching up to wipe at the rain as it collected on his lashes. “And you’re unbelievably sexy,” she said. “Even when you swear.” She laughed then, a clear sound above the rasping of wet leaves and branches around them.
Ron smiled at her, his expression one of contentment, despite the rain that continued to fall.
Looking around, Ron pushed himself up from the ground. He grasped her hand in his and stood, pulling her up with him. “Reckon it’s time to go inside, yeah? I’d hate for you to catch your death out here.”
Hermione nodded, picking up her cloak and throwing it over her. She didn’t bother with the smatterings of clothing that littered the garden. They could wait. She moved close, releasing Ron’s hand to hug him around the middle.
Grinning, Ron looked down at her. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad you had a date tonight. This…” He gestured between them. “It might not have happened if you hadn’t gone out.”
Hermione gazed at him, her eyes wide before she stood on her toes, kissing him. “I’m here now, Ron,” she said, pointedly. “I’m home.”
Ron smiled wide, turning them toward the Burrow and leading Hermione in with an arm around her shoulders.
Fin
Challenge: # 25 - Rain
Title: Come In From The Rain
Summary: Rainy afternoons don't have to be lonely. Ron thinks that Hermione's gone off on a date. He decides to drown his sorrows with alcohol and rain, but not everything is as it seems.
Warning: Sexually explicit fic
Word Count: 4,330
Rating: Adult/Mature/NC-17
Notes: I apologise for the extreme lateness of this fic. That'll teach me not to sign up for ficathons again.
Come In From The Rain
By anamchara
Ron sat outside, on the steps to the Burrow. At the moment, he was alone. Hermione lived there as well. She had since they’d left Hogwarts, and the war had raged on. But tonight, she…well, she wasn’t there.
Ron was tired. Tired of the rain that had soaked him through, just seconds after he’d stepped outside. Tired of the emptiness of the Burrow, now that Ginny had moved into her own flat, and Mum and Dad had gone on holiday. Tired of the only recently-ended war, and tired of the aftermath.
Firewhisky helps, he thought, as he took another swig from the half empty bottle.
Of course, it was just an excuse to drink more, to hide from the one thing that kept him here, outside, in the rain.
Hermione. And the reason she wasn’t there.
Taking another pull from the bottle, Ron almost missed the pop that signified someone Apparating or Disapparating. Almost.
If it’d been any person but Hermione, he would’ve missed it. But with her, he’d long become accustomed to the sound of her. She had a unique sound for everything. Apparation was no different. And Ron knew it well.
Ron didn’t turn to face her. Instead, he stood, walked further into the rain, and raised the bottle to his lips, taking another gulp of the fiery liquid. Ignoring her was what he did second best.
“Ron.”
He heard her, even above the drum of rain against the roof and and the whistle of wind through the trees. But he didn’t reply.
“Ronald,” Hermione said again, her voice rising in volume and sounding more aggravated.
When he still didn’t acknowledge her, she stepped close and grabbed him by the wrist. “Ron, look at me.” Her chest was heaving, confusion and irritation evident in every quick breath she took and every sharp word she said. “What are you doing out here? What’s got into you?”
Irritated, Ron glared down at her. “None of your bloody business,” he said. “I’m a grown Wizard. I can do whatever the hell I like, and it’s no concern of yours, is it?” Droplets of rain ran down his face to drip from his chin. He was soaked through, but didn’t feel the cold as his blood boiled with renewed anger. “Leave me be.”
Hermione gasped, looking as though he’d struck her. She quickly set her lips into a thin line. “You’re a right stupid git, you know that? What is it you think I’ve done to you now?” She stood with her hands on her hips and her chin raised, unwittingly doing a dead perfect imitation of Molly Weasley whenever one of her children had misbehaved.
Despite the rain that continued to pound down around them, Hermione remained perfectly dry beneath the hood of her cloak. Figures, Ron thought, bitterly. Never let it be said that Hermione Granger’d go anywhere in foul weather without performing a series of protection charms to keep her dry.
“Well?” Hermione was looking at him with a quirked brow, which might’ve appeared comical had Ron not already been in the mood for a row.
“Well what?” he said, leaning into her space, irrationally hopeful that some of the water dripping from him might penetrate her defence work. “I’ve nothing to say to you. What are you here for besides? It’s early still. Shouldn’t you be out shagging Tobias Hawthorne right now?” He screwed up his face into a sneer.
“Sod off, Ron,” she said. “You’re not worth this conversation.” Her voice had suddenly gone quieter, the hurt he’d purposefully inflicted ringing clear through her words.
She turned from him.
Surprised at her language, even as he realised she’d long since been influenced hanging about with him and Harry, Ron’s eyes widened. He felt little of the satisfaction he’d hoped to feel by hurting her.
Ron moved then, quicker than he expected he could, considering the amount of alcohol he’d consumed. He reached out, pulling her back around with a hand on her upper arm. “No, wait,” he said, his voice more pleading than angry, more defeated than irate.
Hermione stared at his hand on her arm, noticing the wet patch growing around it. Of course her rain-repelling spells had no effect on bodily contact with something or someone wet.
“Please,” Ron said. “Please don’t go.”
Hermione looked up at him then. Her expression remained frozen. “Why?” The single word fell between them, cracking Ron’s armour.
“I’m sorry, Hermione. I am.” Ron’s expression pleaded with her to believe him. “I didn’t mean it. Don’t leave.”
Hermione bit her bottom lip, waiting as several tense moments passed before she spoke. “I don’t understand what you want, Ron. What is it you want from me?”
Ron let go of her arm, dropping the whisky bottle to the ground, uncaring. He looked toward his feet, causing even more wet drops to fall from his hair, nose and chin. He blinked to clear his vision.
“Ron?” Hermione spoke again, just loud enough to be heard.
Haltingly, Ron spoke. “Did you - and Tobias - I mean…oh bloody hell.” He paused, running a hand through his hair, spraying water in the process. “Did you have a…good date with him?” His voice sounded resigned.
Hermione furrowed her brows, seemingly confused by the sudden change in Ron’s demeanor. “I wasn’t…who told you I had a date?”
Ron looked back at her face, his own confusion growing. “Ginny. I rang her on that bloody telephone thing you’ve got hooked up here. Wanted to see how she was doing in her new flat.” Ron cleared his throat before continuing. “She…I think Harry was, um, visiting.” Ron flushed as he gazed out toward the distance. The memories of that blasted conversation flooding his mind all over again. “I yelled at her, saying she was too ruddy young to be having men over to her flat.”
Hermione spoke in a monotone when Ron didn’t continue. “What does that have to do with me?”
Ron returned his gaze to her. “I hacked her off. She said I’d no call to be interfering in her love life, and that if I wanted to be so nosy, I’d best look closer to home.” Ron closed his eyes as he continued, pain seeping into him at the thought. “She said you’d gone out on a date with Tobias Hawthorne, and that I hadn’t the right to be keeping tabs on either of your social lives.” Ron laughed mirthlessly. “Then she hung up on me, the irrational twit.”
Hermione frowned. “Ron, I understand she’s your sister, and you want to protect her, but she’s right. You’ve no business yelling at her for spending time with Harry, or whomever she wants. She’s a grown woman now.” She paused before lifting her chin to meet his gaze, her eyes flashing. “We both are. And you’ve no good reason to be meddling, wondering who I’m dating either, have you?”
Her words sounded challenging to Ron, rekindling his ire. “Of course I’ve good cause to be worrying. In case you’ve not noticed, there are still Death Eaters on the loose. Dark Magic hasn’t gone away, just since Voldemort’s been gone.” He narrowed his eyes until they were mere slits, framed by wet clumps of dark lashes. “So as her brother, it’s my job to keep her safe, isn’t it?”
Hermione stomped her foot into the wet ground, causing muddy water to fly upward and splatter them both. “For Merlin’s sake, Ron, would you listen to yourself? You sound like some throwback from the Medieval era. Some women are actually able to take care of themselves!”
Ron made to interrupt her, but was cut off as she continued unabated. “Besides which, even if Ginny needs looking after, who says I do? We both know I’m clever and strong enough to defend myself, and though you’ve not seemed to cotton on to the fact, I am not your sister!”
“I know that!” Ron shouted at her. Glaring at her, he wondered what he’d done wrong in apologising. He knew Hermione wasn’t his sister.
Pushing that thought aside, Ron chose to focus on what she’d said. “When has it become so horrible a crime to want to look after my family?”
Hermione said nothing, her mouth a thin frown.
Running a hand through his wet hair exasperatedly, Ron continued on at her silence. “Hermione, so help me, what are you so fussed about? I apologised, didn’t I? I’m sorry for being so nasty to you when you got back. I’ve had a hell of a bad day. I’m wet and cold and tired. So please, for the love of Merlin, why are you so angry?” He tried, fruitlessly, to wipe at the rain that’d got in his eyes.
Hermione rolled her eyes heavenward and huffed out a loud sigh. “Ron Weasley, you are the most daft person on the planet! How, after all these years, can you still not understand why treating me like your sister would make me upset? How can one person be so barmy?”
Ron stumbled backwards a bit, stunned at her outburst. “Hermione, I…”
“No, Ron,” she said, her tone clipped and authoritative. “You want my help figuring this out? Fine. Here it is. I was not on a date with Tobias Hawthorne. Ginny told you that out of spite because you were being a prat to her.” Hermione raised a hand to keep him quiet when he would’ve spoken. “He and I are business collegues, Ron. We work together. That is all. This dinner - this date - was a business dinner. Nothing more.” She turned to walk back towards the house.
“Wait,” Ron said, above the din of the rain and wind.
Hermione stopped and slowly turned back to face him but remained silent, eyebrows slanting upward in an expression of hesitant curiosity.
Ron’s desperation hardened his features. “Hermione…that’s not all. Please. I’m tired of fighting.” His shoulders slumped in defeat. He believed that if he let her just walk away without resolving this, they never would, and he was tired of waiting.
For a moment, Hermione seemed conflicted. Then, her resolve hardened and she took a small step towards him. “You’re right,” she said, her shaky voice gradually growing stronger. “There is more. All of this upsets me. I’m twenty-one years old and I’ve known you almost half my life. Yet the most feeling you can muster to show me is that of a brother trying to keep his sister out of harm’s way.” She took another step closer. “You say you’re tired, Ron? Well, so am I. I’m tired of living with you but having you no closer than the loft. I’m tired of spending all my time and energy fighting with you over what I choose to do. Most of all, I’m tired of not being able to move on with my life because the man I’ve loved for most of it doesn’t have the sense to admit that he’s in love with me, as well.” She fell silent then but her gaze remained unwavering.
Ron almost fell backwards before he caught himself. Suddenly, everything he’d ever believed about himself and his relationship with the woman in front of him was there in the open. And for the life of him, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
So instead, he moved forward, one small step at a time, closer to Hermione. When he stood directly in front of her, he reached up a shaky hand to touch her cheek. He brushed his fingertips lightly over her skin, watching in delight as she inhaled sharply at the contact. Then, before he could let reason talk him out of it, he did the one thing he’d wanted to do since before their sixth year at Hogwarts. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
Hermione somehow gasped and sighed in the same breath, parting her lips. Ron took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, sweeping his tongue along the sensitive skin just inside her bottom lip.
Hermione startled Ron by reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It was all Ron needed as his mind swam with desire. He moved his hands down and around to Hermione’s back, pressing her lower body into close contact with his own, wanting her to know just how much he needed her.
Hermione rotated her hips, adding friction at the point where her body met his.
With a groan, Ron pulled back from Hermione’s mouth. “Fuck, Hermione,” he said, gasping. “Don’t do that unless you plan to…” He wasn’t sure what he meant to say. He just knew that too much of that would lead to him losing what little control he had.
“Plan to what? Shag you?” Hermione grinned, licking her lips. “You’re the only person I’ve ever seriously wanted, Ron. So if you don’t want to finish what you started, you’d best tell me now.” Her skin was flushed and her pupils were dilated.
“Are you mental?” Ron heard himself saying those words and almost laughed at how familiar they felt. A feeling of warmth spread through him as he realised how well he knew her, this amazing woman before him. Even if he’d always known she was mental.
“Of course I want…shite, Hermione, that’s all I’ve wanted for forever.” With those words, Ron pressed his lips to hers once more, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, desperate for the taste of her. He ran his hands up and down Hermione’s back. He needed to be touching her, everywhere, all at once, but there were too many things in the way. Clothes. Rain. Air.
Hermione reached down then, moving her hand to the button and zip of Ron’s sodden trousers. She undid the fastenings quickly, releasing Ron’s erection from its confines. He shuddered as her small fingers encircled his length. Pulling from her mouth, he choked out a low growl before reaching under her bum to lift her.
Immediately, Hermione wrapped her legs around Ron’s hips as she tugged at the collar of his shirt in an attempt to remove it. She was having difficulty as the wet cloth clung to Ron’s frame. Using one hand to hold her, Ron reached with the other to help lift his shirt off, dropping it to the muddy ground, forgotten.
“Inside,” Ron said, leaning in to kiss Hermione again. His tongue tangled with hers, both fighting for control and for dominance. Ron drew back, kissing down to her jaw and then her neck, nipping at the pulse point lightly.
Hermione tipped her head back to give him room. With one hand around Ron’s shoulders, she used the other to unclasp and discard her cloak. She followed this up by unbuttoning the red blouse she wore, allowing it to hang open.
Ron moved them slowly forward in the direction of the Burrow, as rain continued to pelt them. Hermione’s protection spells had been dispersed by the removal of her cloak. Her wild hair curled and tangled into wet clumps as the rain ran in rivulets down her face, chest and back.
Ron tugged at Hermione’s blouse, finally removing it with her help. The front-clasping bra soon followed, dropping from Hermione’s hand to the ground. Her hands were everywhere, traveling over Ron’s chest, back and arms. Finally, she used one hand to hitch her skirt further up her thighs.
They reached the side of the house. Ron pressed himself and Hermione against the wall, thrusting against the red lace that still separated them. He groaned then, deep in his throat. He drew away just long enough to speak, his voice harsh and full of emotion. “Inside. Need to get inside…”
Hermione shook her head before speaking, her own voice deeper than usual. “No, Ron. I want you now. Don’t want to…wait.” She opened her eyes, looking at him through her wet lashes.
Ron laughed with delight, his face turned skyward, before he looked back at her with an expression of awe. “God, I love you, Hermione.” His blue eyes twinkled with something akin to wonder and merriment. He leaned close again to whisper in her ear. “I meant…I need to get inside - you.” He drew back, his face flushed.
Hermione’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’ before she nodded quickly, smiling. “No more wasting time,” she said. “And I’ve loved you my whole life, you prat.” She leaned toward him, away from the wall, and licked his collarbone before working her way up his neck and chin to his mouth.
With one hand, Ron reached up under Hermione’s skirt to yank at the slip of fabric covering her. He pushed the knickers halfway past her bum when he lost what was left of his patience, and pulled, ripping them. He tossed them carelessly aside before moving his hand back to the juncture of her legs.
At his first touch, Hermione arched her back, pressing herself against his hand. She was slick and hot, and Ron was dizzy with lust as he pushed a finger inside. “Fuck,” he said aloud, the blood spinning through his veins and pulsing loudly in his ears. Nothing had ever felt this good, he thought. He moved his hand then, thrusting first one finger, then two, in time with the rain that beat against them.
“Oh, God,” Hermione said on a sigh. She reached between their bodies to take hold of Ron’s cock. She rubbed his length up and down while making indistinguishable sounds of need in her throat.
Finally, Ron removed his fingers. He pressed Hermione against the outside wall of the Burrow. Leaning down, he drew one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking hard. Hermione squealed and ground her hips against him.
Ron gasped for air as the intensity of the storm increased. Reaching between them, he guided his erection to her entrance, pushing the tip inside.
Hermione arched, squeezing his hips with her legs to draw him further in.
Ron kissed her, his tongue brushing against hers. He drew back only enough to taste the droplets of water in the crevice above her top lip. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said with his last coherent thought. “I never meant to wait so long to show you.” Then, with a sharp thrust, he was all the way inside.
Ron’s heart pounded, the blood coursing through his veins, driving him faster. He pulled halfway out, then thrust again.
With each movement, Hermione met him. She held on, pressing her breasts against his chest as she rode him, pulling him deeper on each thrust with her legs at his waist. She slid her hands into the dark auburn curls at the nape of Ron’s neck, bringing him to her for another searing kiss.
Lightning brightened the sky momentarily, followed by a loud clap of thunder which Ron felt shudder through him. The vibrations drove him harder and faster until, with a guttural moan, Ron came. He continued to thrust, calling out her name.
Reaching between them with one hand, Ron pressed his thumb to Hermione’s clit. He began to rub at that spot as he licked at her rain-soaked breasts. After several seconds, Hermione cried out, arching her back, her body thrumming and her muscles contracting around Ron.
Almost instantly, Ron was hard again. Still buried inside her, he continued to move slowly, allowing Hermione time to come down from her peak. He spoke into her shoulder. “Love you, Hermione.”
“I love you, Ron,” she said before pressing a kiss to his chest.
Ron moved one hand up to push the wet hair back from her face. He continued to thrust, languidly now, his other hand on the curve of her bottom.
Hermione moaned against his neck, the sound sending shivers down his spine. “Mmm, Ron,” she said. “Lie down for me.” She looked up at him, a smile on her face.
“Where?” Ron shook his head, spraying them both with more water.
Without another word, Hermione pushed back from the wall of the house. Ron lost his footing on the wet ground and slipped, landing on his back with her in his arms atop him. “Bloody hell, Hermione,” he said, his voice loud and rough. “Are you trying to kill us then?”
Rather than replying, she leaned forward, pressing him further into the muddy grass with a hand on each shoulder. Tossing her wet curls, she kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth with ardour.
Ron returned the kiss, biting and licking at her lips and tongue in a fiery duel. He reached up to feel the weight of her breasts with his hands. He flicked a thumb over each nipple, grinning smugly when this elicited a sexy moan from Hermione.
Hermione lifted her hips, sliding almost all the way off Ron, reaching between them to hold his cock in place. With a wicked grin on her face, she pressed herself back down, guiding Ron’s length back inside her. For several long seconds, she remained still, watching Ron lie beneath her on the wet grass.
Ron blinked as the rain pelted his face. He wanted to keep his eyes open, to see Hermione smiling as she held him there. But his limbs felt heavy and his mind seemed drugged. When she didn’t move, Ron became impatient and attempted to squirm, lifting his hips to encourage her.
Finally, Hermione shifted. She lifted herself up and down, driving Ron deeper with each movement. She slid her fingers down his chest, traveling over his ribs and stomach and back up. With a hand pressed to each arm, she began to grind faster against him. She rode him, her back arched, in time with the storm that raged around them.
Ron met her hips with his own, the sound of skin on skin reaching his ears above the noises of the wind. Eyes drifting closed, he reached out to touch her at the point where their bodies connected. He drew shapes with his hand against her most sensitive spot. He felt a thrill course through him when his ministrations resulted in quicker, almost jerky movements as she rose and lowered herself above him.
Hermione shook her head from side to side, letting the rain fall on her face as her movements came faster and more erratic.
Ron grunted, savouring the feel of being inside her, and having her ride him into orgasmic oblivion. He pushed harder, pressing his hand against her and thrusting his hips to meet hers.
Hermione moaned long and low. She arched up, pressing herself more fully into his hand. She moved one hand from Ron’s shoulder, tangling her fingers with Ron’s at the juncture of her thighs. She guided him, showing him where and how to touch her.
Ron ran his other hand up and down her leg, from hip to knee. He followed the movements of her fingers, as she touched herself, amazed at how incredibly sexy she looked with her head back and her fingers pressed against his on her most secret of places.
All at once, Hermione’s movements sped up and she tensed. A flush crept over her chest and face as she tossed her head from side to side. Her inner muscles pulsed, squeezing Ron’s cock. She keened, wordlessly, before collapsing against Ron’s chest.
Ron moved his hands to hug Hermione close to him. Softly, he pressed a kiss to the top of Hermione’s head before he sat up.
Hermione lifted her head from Ron’s chest as he did this, murmuring his name and kissing him. She wrapped her arms around his neck before leaning forward to kiss him again.
Ron kissed her back, pushing a lock of her wet hair back from her face. Then, he reached out with one hand, pulling her cloak to them. Without fully dislodging himself from her, he rolled them over onto Hermione’s cloak.
He pushed back in, holding himself there as Hermione’s muscles relaxed. He leaned down, kissing her deeply before he drew back. Slowly, he began to move, gradually thrusting faster as his own orgasm neared.
Hermione drew her knees closer to her, widening the space between her legs and changing the angle at which Ron was penetrating her. She brushed her fingers up and down his arms, pressing her lips to his chest, neck and jaw, where ever she could reach.
After only a few minutes, Ron tensed, moaning low in his throat. He pressed fully into her and held himself still as he climaxed. Breathing deeply, he withdrew, collapsing at Hermione’s side, their legs still twined together. He turned toward her, drawing her to him and kissing her.
“You’re amazing,” he said, his voice rough. “So fucking amazing.”
Hermione smiled lazily, reaching up to wipe at the rain as it collected on his lashes. “And you’re unbelievably sexy,” she said. “Even when you swear.” She laughed then, a clear sound above the rasping of wet leaves and branches around them.
Ron smiled at her, his expression one of contentment, despite the rain that continued to fall.
Looking around, Ron pushed himself up from the ground. He grasped her hand in his and stood, pulling her up with him. “Reckon it’s time to go inside, yeah? I’d hate for you to catch your death out here.”
Hermione nodded, picking up her cloak and throwing it over her. She didn’t bother with the smatterings of clothing that littered the garden. They could wait. She moved close, releasing Ron’s hand to hug him around the middle.
Grinning, Ron looked down at her. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad you had a date tonight. This…” He gestured between them. “It might not have happened if you hadn’t gone out.”
Hermione gazed at him, her eyes wide before she stood on her toes, kissing him. “I’m here now, Ron,” she said, pointedly. “I’m home.”
Ron smiled wide, turning them toward the Burrow and leading Hermione in with an arm around her shoulders.
Fin