The Right Time

[snorkfics]

Title: The Right Time

Rating: NC-17
Length: 11,350 words
Pairings: Ron/Hermione, a little Remus/Tonks
Challenge: Ron/Hermione MovieQuote!Fic Challenge
First posted: 2nd February 2007, at Checkmated

Summary: After Ron and Hermione have a 'difference of opinion' about the development of their relationship, Ron unexpectedly finds himself seeking advice from Remus Lupin on the right way to approach affairs of the heart during wartime ...

Notes: Written for the prompt: "Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind?" (Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers), which had to be incorporated as a line of dialogue. Despite the rating and word count, there's a lot more talk than action, but there is some action, so don't read if you're not supposed to, OK? Many thanks to modestyrabnott for betaing the draft and some very helpful suggestions



(Outstanding Adult Fic category)






Ron had sometimes wished you could tell when life-changing events were about to happen. But he'd found it rarely seemed to work that way. You made a bad-tempered remark about an irritating girl, or started your History of Magic O.W.L., or ate a few Chocolate Cauldrons on your birthday -- and then before you knew it you were friends with her for life, or riding an invisible horse to London to have a fight, or waking up in the hospital wing feeling like you'd been run over by the Hogwarts Express.

He certainly didn't expect anything to happen that night that would change his life. Not for the better, at any rate -- at Order headquarters, there was always the outside chance of grievous bodily injury from something the Black family had left lying around. Personally, he'd had his fill of the place when they'd been using it as a base over the summer, and there really wasn't much he could do to help while Hermione was using their few free days after the end of term to search its library for anything relating to Horcruxes, the Hogwarts Founders, or the late Regulus Black that she might have missed the first time.

He swore under his breath and glanced around the dingy drawing-room, thinking there might be something there more interesting than the holiday reading McGonagall had set them. Unfortunately, after two years of clear-up operations there wasn't much left except a portrait of some old Black ancestor, who caught his eye and sneered at him. Ron extended a middle finger in the portrait's general direction, and the man sniffed in outrage and walked out of the frame -- which was fine as far as Ron was concerned. He was just looking forward to getting out of there and back to The Burrow for Christmas.

He was pretty sure Harry was feeling the same way, especially as the stupid sod had decided that being away from school in an Unplottable house was the ideal opportunity for extra Occlumency practice, in case You-Know-Who ever decided to risk another foray into his mind. Ron privately thought that he was probably already as good as he was ever going to get, and even Hermione agreed that he was putting himself through more pain than he really needed to, but then this was Harry they were talking about -- once he'd got an idea like this into his head, there was no point arguing with him. At least this time it was Lupin, not Snape, attacking his mind, so there was an outside chance that he might actually learn something useful.

At that moment, the interest level of the room improved immeasurably when Hermione walked in, taking in the situation at a glance and giving him a small smile. She dropped tiredly onto the sofa next to him; he leaned over for a quick kiss and she smiled again as she saw what he was reading.

"Conjectures in the Theory of Conjuration is a really fascinating book, isn't it?" she said with just the slightest hint of irony.

"No, it bloody isn't; not to me anyway, and you know it," he grumbled, and she grinned. He shuffled along the sofa to allow her room to stretch out and lay her head on his lap. "Find anything in the library?"

She sighed. "Not a thing." She hesitated for a moment and then asked, out of the blue, "Do you think we did the right thing, going back to Hogwarts this year?"

He looked at her in surprise, and couldn't resist a sly dig. "Never thought I'd see the day you asked that."

"Oh, ha ha." She glanced up, looking quite serious. "Ron, I know it seemed like a good idea at the time -- boost everyone's morale, encourage people to come back, avoid drawing attention to ourselves -- but do you really think it's the best thing?"

He thought about it. "Yeah, I do, actually. Come on, Hermione, even Harry realised in the end that it might take years to do this. We might as well be at Hogwarts as anywhere, and try to learn something useful while we're there. And at least if we're there like we're supposed to be, we're not hanging out a big sign for You-Know-Who saying 'The Chosen One And His Mates Are Up To Something'."

"That's true ..." Whatever else she might have been going to say was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. They glanced at each other and got up to find Harry waiting in the hallway. He managed to smile at them, but looked completely knackered, and didn't protest at Hermione's brisk order of "Harry, go and get some sleep. Now."

They followed him upstairs just to make sure he was all right. As they passed Hermione's room she caught Ron's hand, and there was an urgent message in her glance. He nodded.

"Er, mate, I'll be along in a minute, okay?" he called along the corridor.

Harry gave him a half-smile and a tired wave as if he understood what Ron and Hermione wanted to do. Ron watched him climb the stairs, waiting until he heard the door of their room close, and then turned to Hermione. Harry had probably thought that they wanted a quick snog before turning in, but (although that wasn't a bad idea in itself, admittedly) their glances hadn't said that at all. Her expression had clearly said, We need to talk about Harry, and he could tell that she'd understood his nod to mean, I know, let him think we just want some time together. Now he could see how worried she looked as they slipped quietly into her room, flopped down on the old four-poster, and drew the curtains to hide the worst of its serpentine carvings.

"Harry's in a bad way, isn't he?" said Hermione softly after a moment.

Ron sighed and knocked a pillow into shape to take out some of his frustration. "Yeah, he is a bit. I think it's beginning to really hit him. You know -- how long all this could take."

"Do you think he really believes we can win?" she asked anxiously.

"I bloody hope so." Ron thought about it a moment or two then nodded. "Yeah, he does. I'm sure he does. He's just ... I dunno, a bit overwhelmed with it all. And this place doesn't help."

"Because it reminds him of Sirius?"

"Yeah, probably. I mean, sometimes it makes me think of Sirius."

"Me too," admitted Hermione, looking relieved that Ron had had the same idea. "Lupin and Tonks as well, I think. Sirius was rather ... memorable, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. But Harry's tough, remember. Harry's ... Harry." He reached over and began to stroke her hair, knowing they would both take comfort from it. "All we've got to do is watch his back, and keep him sane and in one piece till he finishes off You-Know-Who, haven't we?"

Hermione gave him a wry smile. "Oh, is that all? No problem, then." She hesitated for a minute, then bit her lip, and added in a slightly shaky voice, "But it's ... well, it's easy to say that, but it won't be as easy as all that, will it?"

"Course it will," said Ron robustly. He wasn't sure if was trying to convince Hermione or himself.

It seemed to help though, as she relaxed against him and snuggled up. "Ron, are you scared?" she asked, in such a small voice he had to strain to hear it.

He shivered; he hadn't heard her actually voice that concern before. He paused for a moment or two, but he had to offer her an honest answer in return. "Yeah, a bit," he admitted awkwardly. "Be daft not to be, wouldn't it? All those big attacks by the Death Eaters. But --" he wasn't sure if this would make sense to her "-- it doesn't seem as bad as it did. At least we're doing something to fight back. Even if we don't know what we're doing half the time."

She nodded in understanding, to his relief. "That's true. It's just that it could be years, couldn't it? The first war went on for a decade before -- well, you know --"

"You-Know-Who went after Harry and his mum and dad," said Ron heavily.

"-- yes, exactly -- and we don't know how long this could take -- and more and more people are going to be killed the longer it goes on, and the Ministry is going to get worse and worse --"

He could see her talking herself into the kind of state he normally associated with pre-examination nerves, and because he wished that was all they had to cope with, and because she looked utterly adorable, he interrupted her with a kiss before she could work up a head of steam.

She responded with urgency, and he wrapped an arm around her as she snuggled up to him, in the way they'd been doing all the previous term in the common room. They hadn't cared if anyone objected, and none had. Given the state of the war most of the students welcomed a little comfort where available. It had been a wonderful feeling to finally be close to Hermione whenever he could, or at least as close as the practicalities of Hogwarts life allowed.

They lay for a few minutes without speaking, just pressed up against each other, letting their hands wander, gently kissing lips and jaws and necks, and listening to the creaking sounds of the old house settling in for the night. Of course, he had a strong desire to tear her clothes off as well, but then he always did, and mainly they were just enjoying the feeling of being together.

"Love you, Hermione," he muttered without thinking. "Don't know what I'd do without you." It came out sounding unexpectedly serious; it was the sort of thing they'd only ever been able to say to each other half-jokingly before.

Hermione pulled away slightly from where she was kissing Ron's neck and chest through his half-undone shirt and looked Ron in the eyes with a very strange, alarmingly serious expression. "You and me, Ron. You're sure? That's really what you want -- me, not just any girl?"

The question startled him, but it was a dead easy one to answer. He couldn't imagine not wanting them to be together. "Yes. You know I do," he said hoarsely, slipping a hand underneath her T-shirt to stroke her side. "I bloody hated it when we weren't even talking. I don't ever want us to be like that again. I need you, Hermione."

He reddened, because his voice had in fact sounded raw with a different type of need than he'd intended, but to his relief it didn't put her off. Indeed, the kiss she gave him in response was so fierce it sent a shudder through him, and he couldn't help but start rubbing up against her. But even so, what happened next was thoroughly unexpected.

"I need you too, Ron."

He felt Hermione's hands slide down his chest, pause for a moment as if she was considering some decision, and then start unfastening the remaining buttons on his shirt. The sensation of her touch felt so brilliant that for a moment it didn't register where her hands had headed next. So he was startled again when he felt her unfasten his belt -- calmly but quite quickly, as if she'd done this many times before (which she bloody hadn't, however much he'd fantasised about it). She unbuttoned his jeans, and then worked them as far down his legs as she could reach.

Ron opened his mouth -- later he had no recollection of what comment he'd been intending to make -- but then she leaned back with a small smile and wriggled her T-shirt off over her head, giving him the benefit of the kind of close-up view of small, rounded breasts in a lacy bra that he'd imagined many a time, and causing him to lose track of whatever it was he'd been going to say. Any hope of coherent speech then became completely impossible as she reached round and unhooked the bra, dropping it neatly on top of the T-shirt in a way that was very Hermione and possibly the sexiest thing Ron had ever seen.

He tried not to stare, but for some reason his eyes seemed to be frozen in place. It wasn't until she rolled her eyes, smiled tentatively, and began to guide his hands towards her breasts too that his brain unfogged.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" he asked, in a voice that sounded embarrassingly strangled.

"What does it look like?" she replied mischievously, as his hands seemed to move of their own volition to stroke her breasts, sending a jolt right through him -- and by the small tremble that he could feel, through her as well.

"But ... what ... why are you ... this?" he asked stupidly, drawing her closer automatically. As her breasts brushed his own chest he shuddered with pure desire -- well, all right, not that pure -- and he could feel his groin positively aching. He groaned. Not that he hadn't often dreamed about her doing something like this, but if they really carried on like this he was going to want to carry on a lot further, and she --

"Well, Ron, obviously we need to be out-of-our-clothes-before-wecanmakelovedon'twe?" she said, obviously trying to sound as if she'd planned this all along but giving herself away by talking more and more rapidly, the words finally running together as she blushed scarlet.

-- wanted exactly that?

What?

"Hermione? You want to ... really want to ..."

"Yes," she said simply.

"But ..."

"What?"

"Why now ... we've barely ... you've never ..."

She leaned back and smiled at him, but rather sadly. "Do you want me? Want us?" she asked, biting her lip. "Really, truly, want us, I mean, Ron -- it's not just that you're only with me because, well, we're friends and it's convenient and I've always been here or something?"

Ron answered with difficulty -- a lot of which was due to the fact she was half-naked in front of him, but mostly was because he didn't know quite how to put what he was trying to say. "I want us more than anything else I've ever wanted," he said eventually. "If I looked in that bloody stupid mirror now, I'd probably see us."

"Mirror?"

"Doesn't matter. Tell you later. Yes, I want us, but ..."

"But nothing." She put a finger on his lips, and he kissed it automatically. "Ron, I've wanted this for so long, and I don't think I can bear it any longer." She looked away from him for a moment. "Maybe it's being away from the school routine in this ghastly place that does it, but I need to know that ... that there's something for us to look forward to. That there isn't just war, and fighting, and researching, and trying to keep Harry alive and sane, and maybe we can be happy someday in the nebulous future -- years from now when it's all over, if we win, and if we survive, and if we're not crippled ..." He shivered at that, and she stroked his cheek. "I want to know there's something here for us right now to give us strength. And if you feel the same way, you really, truly do, then I ... I don't want to wait any longer. I need this, Ron." She kissed his chest tenderly, almost reverently, as if she couldn't quite believe that she was finally getting the chance.

Ron moaned. "But ... we can't, Hermione." He could hear his voice wavering, surprising himself by actually voicing his fear. He realised that his hands were still stroking her breasts and her back as if they were charmed to work by themselves without any further instructions from his brain. "What will people think of us?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "What people?"

"It's ... it's Order headquarters ..."

She shrugged, the way her breasts gave a little jiggle sending another shockwave of desire through him. "It's Harry's house. He wouldn't care." She gave him a small, mischievous smile. "He might not want to know, but I won't say anything to him if you don't."

"Hermione ..." It came out as a low moan as she licked her lips and looked at him with an expression that mixed exasperation and hunger. He didn't know why he suddenly felt panicky, or why he could almost hear Fred and George laughing their heads off. "What will they say about you?"

She leaned back again and looked at him quite seriously. "Ron, I ... I don't really care. Do you?" She resumed kissing his neck and he moaned again. He felt hot all over. "Good."

Hermione began to undo her jeans, and he leapt up from the bed in shock, tripping over his own jeans which were around his knees and falling flat on his back on the bedroom floor. Hermione was obviously fighting not to laugh; she half lay back and preened a little, rather uncertainly -- as if not quite sure whether it would look sexy or not -- and with a grin now breaking out on her face slowly began to wriggle out of her jeans. Her knickers slipped partly down as a result and Ron could see a fringe of hair that made him think what more he would see if they were down further and oh no no no no no ...

"Hermione, no!" He could feel himself blushing as he stood up and managed to pull his jeans back up and fasten them, covering his arse, and more importantly his hard-on. Her grin vanished, replaced by a look of utter shock. "We can't. We ... we just can't, can we ... I can't ... I'm sorry!"

He rushed to the door, not understanding why he felt so panicky, turned the handle and roughly pulled it open. He could see her expression crumple as he half-fell into the corridor and raced for the stairs. His mind felt Stupefied, almost a blank, but his feet seemed to be taking him somewhere -- although it wasn't until he arrived at a door that he realised it was the room he shared with Harry on the next floor up.

He glanced down the stairs, half-terrified that Hermione might have followed him, half-hoping that she had -- but there was no sign of any activity in the rest of the house other than the usual creaks and a few muttering portraits. He leaned against the door for a few minutes until he began to worry that one of them would see him and ask questions, so he opened the door quietly and sneaked in. Fortunately, Harry was sound asleep in his bed, so Ron crept into the adjoining bathroom, shut and locked the door, and leaned on that instead.

Oh Merlin's Beard, he thought as his actions hit him. What have I bloody done? Why did I run away from ... from ... The memory of a nearly-naked Hermione obligingly popped into his head as a reminder and with an agonised moan he pushed down his jeans and underpants, grabbed hold of his cock and worked fast with that picture in mind until he'd finally relieved some of the tension and madness that had been building up inside him. That done, and a hasty Evanesco later, he leaned back against the door and shivered uncontrollably, feeling weak and terrified all of a sudden.

He hadn't the faintest idea what he was going to say to Hermione when he saw her tomorrow, but uppermost in his mind was the horrible thought that this time he might really have blown it with her once and for all.

He'd tried to picture a future without Hermione around, once he'd started to think over what accompanying Harry might actually mean for them, but it wasn't something he could bear to imagine. He couldn't even seem to picture himself with another girl. Every time he fantasised what it would be like to be someone like Bill, married to a part-Veela; or someone like Lupin, with a girlfriend who could look like anyone he wanted her to; or even someone like Dean Thomas, who was apparently now going out with the unquestionably fit Parvati Patil -- well, it didn't really work. However hard he got when he thought of any of those scenarios -- and however hard it was not to think of them sometimes -- his thoughts just seemed to keep coming back to Hermione, and then it wasn't just an ache in his groin, it was an ache in his heart that felt every bit as physical.

He slid down against the door until he hit the floor, put his head in his hands and moaned quietly. Why had she done that to him? Why now, all of a sudden? And why oh why oh why had he not only run away, but done everything but slap her face and call her a scarlet woman?

He sat there until four in the morning trying to think of the answers, but nothing that came to mind made any sense.

*****

He slept late because of that, and only woke at about ten when Harry got up. Hermione didn't make an appearance until nearly noon, and when she did she was red-eyed and wearing a sort of shapeless baggy jumper. Although she talked with a kind of forced brightness about her research plans for the day, it was obvious even to Harry that something was wrong.

He glanced at Ron in enquiry as she left the kitchen. "Er, Ron ..." he began hesitantly. "Is there something ...?"

"I'll sort it out, Harry." It came out sounding more brusque than he'd intended, and he quickly added, "Honest, mate. It's just, um, a bit of a misunderstanding, right?" That was putting it mildly, but Harry seemed to understand that without being told, and after a moment just nodded to let him know that he wouldn't interfere.

He went in search of Hermione and found her in the first place he looked: the library. But by the time he got there, she was already leaving, levitating a large pile of books in front of her. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again as he realised he didn't have the faintest idea what, and before he could try again she'd given him one look of utter hurt and fury and swept out of the room. By the time he'd followed she was halfway up the stairs to her room, the door of which slammed behind her as soon as she entered it.

He spent the next few hours hanging about outside that door; but every time he felt he might have worked up the courage to knock, an Order member would appear on some errand, and Ron would be forced to pretend that he was doing something totally different, that was nothing at all to do with haunting the door of his girlfriend's room. Then when he finally gave it up as a bad job for a while to go and grab something to eat, on the theory that he might feel braver on a full stomach, Lupin and Shacklebolt roped him into a Defence practice session with Harry -- and all in all it was just a fucking mess.

When Shacklebolt had gone off for his Auror shift, and Harry was starting his Occlumency practice with Lupin, Ron finally seized the chance to head down to the kitchen to make himself a quick sandwich and consider his situation. It didn't actually bear much consideration. And it didn't make much sense, either. When you came right down to it, he'd been offered something he'd longed for and fantasised about for years -- and rejected it in just about the worst, clumsiest, stupidest way he could have possibly managed even if he'd planned it.

Ron held his head in his hands and groaned. What would really help would be to find someone to talk to about the situation who could offer him advice. Bill or Charlie would have been ideal, but one was in France and the other in Romania, and he had no idea how to reach them by Floo. It wouldn't be fair on Harry if he and Hermione dragged him into the middle of their quarrel -- again -- and the poor sod would be embarrassed by the whole thing anyway. If he so much as breathed a word to Fred and George, he'd be the one who was embarrassed (probably for the next twenty years), and if he talked to his dad they'd probably both be embarrassed, given how much he treated Hermione as a sort of honorary daughter.

It was a pity Sirius wasn't still around. At least he'd been the sort of bloke who would probably give you advice without taking the piss. Well, not much, anyway.

As he began climbing the stairs from the kitchen, Harry and Lupin were just leaving the lounge. Harry's appearance made Ron forget his problems for a moment; he seemed every bit as knackered as he had the night before, and when Ron gave him a very pointed look he hastily announced that he was off to bed.

Lupin nodded and watched Harry start up to his bedroom, and then as he came down the stairs Ron was suddenly hit with a mad idea.

He moved out of the way and followed Lupin back into the kitchen before he could talk himself out of it, waited while his former teacher found the kettle, and then with a voice as casual as he could make it said, "Sir, could I talk to you about something?"

Lupin looked up in surprise. "Of course you can, Ron. And it's Remus, please. You don't need to call me sir -- you're of age now!"

Ron winced; he knew that very well. That was partly what was currently causing him problems. "Right ..."

"Is it about Harry?"

"Harry? No ..."

"What then?" Lupin rummaged in one of the cupboards and found a mug.

Ron tried very hard not to sound as nervous as he was. "Can I ask you something about ... erm, girls?"

Lupin gave him an appraising glance that showed far too much understanding for Ron's liking. "Girls in general, or Miss Hermione Granger in particular?"

"Well, all right, Hermione then," conceded Ron.

Lupin smiled. "I did wonder where she was today. Slight disagreement perhaps?"

"Er -- something like that, yeah."

"Ah well." Lupin tossed a teabag into the mug and waved his wand at the kettle to set it whistling. "You do realise that after my behaviour last year, I'm hardly the person best qualified to give advice? Unless you want to know what not to do, of course."

Ron grinned. "I'll risk it."

Lupin busied himself with making the tea. "So what's the matter, Ron?" he asked in a friendly manner. "Have you had an argument with Hermione? I'm sure you'll be able to fix it without too much trouble. Possibly a little grovelling. That usually works."

"Not an argument, as such -- er, something she, er, thought we should do and I, well, didn't know if it was a good idea or not ..."

"Really?

Ron hesitated. "You'll keep anything I say secret, yeah?"

"Of course." His gaze sharpened. "This isn't anything to do with ... well, whatever task Albus set you that you won't tell us about?" He gave Ron a pointed look.

"Nothing like that, no ..." Ron shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Something school-related? Another homework plan for you?"

"Definitely nothing to do with Hogwarts!"

"Really? You intrigue me." He raised the mug and took a swig. "What is it then?"

"Well, it's just that Hermione, well, she thinks that, erm, well ..."

Now it had come to the point of actually confiding the problem to Lupin, Ron was beginning to regret bringing the subject up in the first place. Just one more stupid idea to add to all the other stupid ideas he'd had since yesterday -- but Lupin was looking at him in expectation, and he found himself running words together in the same way as Hermione had. "She thinks weshouldsleepwitheachother."

Lupin choked on his tea.

"What?"

"Yeah, I know, but ..."

Lupin stared at him. "Well, I didn't know your relationship had gone that far," he said eventually, wiping tea from his robes. "But I can't say I'm exactly surprised."

He gestured to a chair and Ron sank into it, feeling ever more nervous. Lupin sat down on the opposite side of the table and looked at him as if not quite sure what to say. After a couple of moments' silence, and just as Ron was about to make his excuses and leave, Lupin said tentatively, "Does that mean you don't want to?"

Ron coloured. "Well, not exactly ... well, no, I do, but ... you know."

Lupin didn't look as if he did. "Are you worried about how well you might, er, perform?" he asked delicately. He had a slight blush on his face too now.

"No! Well, yes, a bit I suppose," admitted Ron. "But it's not that."

"Right. Erm, Ron ... what actually is the problem then?" Lupin seemed to be attempting not to look confused, but was evidently struggling to manage it.

"It's ... well, I don't know if we should ... well, I mean, there's nothing wrong with it, but I don't want it to be ... casual, I suppose."

Lupin's eyebrows rose. "Casual? That's about the last word I would think of in regard to you and Hermione."

"I'm not putting this right," said Ron, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Suppose you tell me what happened, then," suggested Lupin. He hastily added, "Er -- you don't have to go into more detail than you need to."

"All right." Ron launched into a highly edited version of the previous night's activities, determinedly looking anywhere but at Lupin, who himself seemed to be struggling to look concerned instead of embarrassed. "And then I just ... well, ran out on her," he finished.

"I see." Lupin looked somewhat at a loss for words, which didn't bode well. "Can I ask why? It's not something everyone of your age would do."

"I know that," moaned Ron. "I don't know why ... look, I suppose I grew up hearing Mum sniffing at stories in bloody Witch Weekly about girls acting like -- well, scarlet women, she used to call them --" he knew his own face must by now be every bit as scarlet as any of the women featured in the magazines "-- and irresponsible boys who were taking advantage, and -- well, I suppose I sort of thought everyone would be screaming at us in disgust if they knew, and I just bolted and ... oh, I don't know, it's just a fucking mess! Er, sorry, Professor," he added hastily.

Lupin's mouth twitched. "Or not, as the case may be." He chuckled at Ron's startled look. "Don't worry, I've heard far worse. I've said far worse. Anyway, you're a man now -- with a man's decision to make, no less -- so I'm certainly not going to tell you off. I'm not your mother. And speaking of Molly --" he hesitated "-- look, Ron, she's one of the kindest, most decent people I know, but if she has a fault, it's that she can sometimes be a little ... well, old-fashioned in her attitudes, especially where her children are concerned."

Ron grinned. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it. I mean, I remember her making Fleur share with Ginny when she first came to stay, even though she and Bill -- well, you know --"

"Had been sleeping together for nearly a year," said Lupin, nodding. "I heard your brother sounding off about that, but he seemed to think it was easier to go along with it than to argue. I can understand that." He grinned suddenly. "When we came down for his wedding, Tonks ended up sharing with Hestia, and I was put in with Kingsley. Fortunately, that meant we were able to swap over to get a --" he coughed "-- sleeping arrangement we preferred. Even if we did have to get up early in the morning and sneak back to our own rooms to avoid ribald comments."

Ron chuckled, then his eyes widened. "Wait a minute, you mean Shacklebolt and that Jones woman are ...?"

"Er, yes." Lupin looked slightly guilty. "I don't think it's serious, it's just a ... um, physical understanding that relieves a little of the stress of the war. Don't pass that on, please, Ron!"

"Course not." After a pause, he added, "So what do you reckon I should do, then?"

"What do you want, Ron? Is your only problem the worry about what people might say, or are you yourself personally uncomfortable with it? Or don't you feel happy with making the commitment?" Lupin sat back in a way Ron remembered from school, as if presenting him with an interesting question in class and waiting for him to suggest his own answer.

It had been a method that worked pretty well as Ron remembered it, so he obliged him by really thinking hard about what he wanted. "I suppose ... I don't really think it's disgusting or anything -- whatever Ginny says about me! -- not if the people involved are okay with it," he said hesitantly, probing his own mind. It wasn't a comfortable feeling, but Lupin nodded encouragingly, so he went on, "I mean, I know Mum goes on about it, but honestly, there's enough bad stuff going on in the world to worry about, we've seen it! And Hermione and me, it's not like we'd be doing it just for, you know, the sake of having a shag. Not that there's anything wrong with that if that's all both of you want," he added hastily, thinking of Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones. He couldn't stop himself making the next admission "But I care about her, Profess ... uh, Remus. She's my best friend, and we've been through all this stuff together, and I ..." He trailed off.

"You're in love with her?" prompted Lupin gently.

Ron looked at the table. He didn't want to answer that question, didn't know how, but then again ... "Yeah, I suppose I must be," he said quietly, nerving himself for an attempt at an explanation. "I don't just fancy her, honest. I mean, I had a girlfriend last year, we used to snog a lot and, well, grope a bit, but it wasn't like it is with Hermione. We feel close, you know, it just feels right, like we sort of fit together ..." He trailed off. "Is that supposed to be what it's like if you're in love with a girl?"

To his surprise, Lupin seemed to be considering this as if Ron had been the teacher asking an interesting question. "I have to be honest, Ron; I don't have any great experience of being in love either. I certainly wasn't expecting it ... But that wouldn't be a bad description of what I feel for Tonks. She makes my heart lighter when I see her, there a sense of joy in being able to make her happy. It feels like we belong. I haven't felt that since I was about your age." He looked faintly uncomfortable, as if he couldn't quite believe he was confiding all this to a seventeen-year-old. "I really wish I hadn't spent a year hurting us both by pushing her away because of my own fears, but at least we came through it in the end. Does that make any sense?"

"Yeah, it does," admitted Ron. "So what do you think?"

Lupin smiled. "I think you've got it bad. Or rather good. And knowing Hermione, I imagine she must feel much the same way, given her, um, suggestion. I take it that today's isolation was in reaction to your refusal?"

Ron cringed; it sounded horrible when put like that. "I must have really hurt her feelings, mustn't I?" he asked tentatively.

"I would have thought so, yes," replied Lupin bluntly. "To put it mildly. Be honest, Ron, can you blame her?"

"No." He hung his head, mulling it over. "I suppose I did the same as you, didn't I?"

"I'm sorry?" said Lupin, startled.

"Pushed her away because of my hang-ups," Ron explained. Talking with Lupin was oddly clarifying -- he tried to encourage you, but he told it to you straight. And got you to look at things from the opposite point of view. "She's scared stiff sometimes, you know? I can tell. But she still keeps going, doing all the stuff she does to help Harry, and being kind to the kids at Hogwarts and everything. I suppose last night she must really have trusted me to help ... and all I did was make her feel worse, right?" Lupin nodded. "I suppose I can understand her being mad at me, she must be thinking, well ..."

"Why do you lay these troubles on an already troubled mind?"

"Yeah, something like that. Is that how it was with you and Tonks?"

Lupin stiffened for a moment, and Ron briefly wondered whether he should have asked, but then the older man sighed and said, "Yes, actually. I'm not proud of that, Ron. Sometimes I'm amazed that she forgave me."

"But she has, yeah?" For some reason the answer seemed very important to Ron. Lupin smiled at him.

"Yes, she has," he said softly. "And I hardly think that Hermione will refuse to speak to you ever again. Has she been up in her room all day?"

"More or less." He buried his head in his hands. "I know I should have talked to her, I couldn't work up the nerve today. I just don't want ... well, to bugger it up in the long term because we got carried away."

Lupin chuckled. "Do you know who you two remind me of sometimes?"

"Who?" asked Ron with some trepidation.

"James and Lily."

Ron gaped at him. "Huh? Harry's mum and dad?"

"Yes. I had a front-row seat for their arguments, too." He hesitated. "If I tell you a tale, will you promise not to tell Harry? It might be a little embarrassing for him."

"All right," said Ron, intrigued.

Lupin studied him closely, but seemed to decide that he could trust him, because he sat back with a grin and began to reminisce. "Well, after we finished our N.E.W.T.s, we fine bunch of Marauders took advantage of James's parents being away to go and stay at his house for a couple of weeks, and of course he invited Lily too. We weren't sure that was such a good idea at first, because there are certain things you don't always feel comfortable saying in mixed company -- but we didn't protest too strongly because, well, James's house, James's rules. When his parents weren't there, at least."

Ron snickered. Lupin smiled, and continued, "Fortunately Lily was a good sport, and she could certainly hold her own if any backchat was needed. Anyway, about a week into the holiday they went off for a 'late-night walk in the grounds', which we naturally interpreted as 'snogging each other to within an inch of their lives'. The rest of us were in the living room investigating the contents of Mr Potter's drinks cabinet and talking about Quidditch, when we heard someone going upstairs, and then the next minute James walked in with a sort of stunned expression on his face, as if he'd just taken an unexpected Bludger to the head."

"I think I've been there," muttered Ron ruefully. "What had the poor sod said, then?"

"Well, that's what we asked, obviously, because even after they got together James never quite lost his knack for putting his foot in it with Lily. He just stood there for a minute, and we were starting to get a little alarmed, when he said in this sort of dazed voice, 'She wants to sleep with me.'"

"What?"

"That's what we said, too. Also 'when?', and of course in Sirius's case 'why, has she gone mad?' I remember James just stood there and said, almost pleadingly, 'Tonight. I didn't think she would. She's gone up to get ready. Look, you lot, for once in your bloody lives don't joke -- we're not rushing into this, are we? Do you really think we should?'"

"And you said no?" Ron tried not to sound disappointed.

Lupin snorted. "Of course we didn't. We just stared at him gone out for a minute, and then Sirius said, 'Look, Prongs, the girl you've been mooning over for the past three years to the point of pissing us all off wants to sleep with you. You're obviously crazy about each other, so just get up those bloody stairs to her room. And if you forget to put a Soundproofing Charm on it, I'll hex them off in the morning.'"

Ron winced. Maybe Sirius wouldn't have been such a good choice of confidante then. "Yeah, but what did you say?"

"Me? That little rat Peter and I just looked at each other and nodded. We were completely gobsmacked, to be honest, and although we might not have put it quite as ... er, eloquently as Sirius did, he seemed to have covered the main points. We were eighteen years old and couldn't see what on earth James was worried about."

"Right, okay," Ron wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to his next question, but he couldn't avoid it. "So what about now? What do you reckon you should have done?"

Lupin contemplated him for a moment. "If I could go back with a Time-Turner, knowing what I know now ... actually, I wouldn't see the need." He continued to look at Ron, but his eyes seemed to be focused somewhere beyond. "James and Lily were young, yes, but they had something special. Even we could see it, young as we were. Taking that step didn't spoil their relationship -- in fact I think it strengthened it, cleared the air and helped them understand what they felt for each other. It was the right time for them."

"And you think if me and Hermione ... er, take that step, it'll work for us too?" asked Ron excitedly, not quite able to believe that Lupin was actually encouraging him. "You think it's the right time for us?"

"I've no idea, Ron," he replied, leaving the younger man somewhat deflated. Lupin watched him with sympathy. "Honestly, Ron, that has to be up to you and Hermione to decide, and I'm afraid I can't decide for you. But I can tell you this: I truly believe that if it hadn't been for Voldemort --" Ron was oddly pleased to notice that he hadn't twitched at the name "-- Harry would now have two parents who embarrassed him in front of his friends by obviously still being very much in love with each other. All I'm trying to say is, it might last for you and Hermione or it might not -- but it doesn't have to spoil things. You'll just have to work it out between the two of you."

"I suppose. What do I say to her, though, Remus?" asked Ron in sudden despair. "I hate not talking to her, but every time I tried to get my nerve up to knock on her door today somebody from the bloody Order came by!"

Lupin chuckled. "Well, there's no-one but me here at the moment, so now's a good time to go and knock on her door. I don't think she'll hex you on sight." He glanced at his watch and grinned wickedly. "Get up those bloody stairs to her room and talk to your girl! And make it quick, because my girl will be back from work in a few minutes, and we might just embarrass you if you're not careful."

Ron grinned uncertainly and stood up, annoyed to find that he was actually shaking with nerves. "Right. You won't tell anyone any of this ..."

"No, of course not. Do try not to wake Mrs Black on the way up, though."

"Yeah. I bet she wouldn't like the idea of what we've been talking about."

"A pure-blood defiling the House of Her Fathers by consummating his affair with a Muggle-born under its roof? Oh, the old bat would have hated it. Although Sirius would have been proud of you for winding her up! Oh, and Ron?" he added as he left.

"What?"

Lupin smirked. "If it all goes well, don't forget to put a Soundproofing Charm on the room."

*****

Ron climbed the stairs carefully, heeding Lupin's advice about the portraits. The last thing he wanted at this point was Hermione coming out of her room to find out what all the racket was about. He stood by her door for a moment, trying to find the nerve to knock; but then, in the hall downstairs, he could hear the front door being quietly opened, followed by whispers and what sounded suspiciously like kissing, and in a panic lest Remus and Tonks come upstairs and interrupt him he finally found the nerve to knock on the door.

He heard the rustle of a book inside the room, and Hermione called out, "Who is it?"

Ron swallowed. "It's me, Hermione."

There was a sudden silence on the other side of the door. He waited for an agonising couple of minutes before deciding that he needed to make some further move.

"Er -- can I come in?"

There was still no reply, but he heard a slight intake of breath as if Hermione might at least be considering it. He put a hand on the snake's head that passed for a doorknob and tentatively turned it. The door was neither locked nor sealed magically, which was a good sign. But he pushed the door open and popped his head around it with some trepidation, because whatever Lupin thought, Ron himself wasn't entirely confident that Hermione wouldn't hex him on sight. He braced himself to slam it shut again if a flight of mad canaries headed his way.

Fortunately, Hermione's wand was lying on the bedside table. She was sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up and her arms hugging them, and he felt a wrench of guilt as he saw her reddened eyes staring at him. He edged into the room and shut the door. He wasn't sure whether he dare sit on the bed next to her, but since there were several old and expensive-looking books lying open on the bedspread and taking up most of the space anyway, he decided against it, pulling out a chair instead and sitting down by the bed.

He forced himself to look up and meet Hermione's eyes. She was clearly as uncomfortable with the situation as he was, but she didn't look furious, just resigned and unsure of what to say, which in some odd way heartened him. "Hermione, er ... we need to talk," he said. It seemed like the safest opening.

"Yes, we do." The unhappiness in her voice was another twist of the knife. "Perhaps you can start by telling me why you ran away last night?"

"I didn't run away," he said, stung.

"Looked like it to me," she said, with a warning hint of bitterness. "What was the matter, afraid I might corrupt your virtue? Am I not supposed to be the kind of girl you do things like that with?" Her voice rose in frustration. "What happened, Ron? Did I scare you? Disgust you? I thought you'd got over that nice-girls-don't thing of yours?"

"I have," he said, reaching out to hold her hand. She smacked it away impatiently. "I just ... oh all right, I panicked, okay? Yes, I ran away!"

She stared at him and then sighed. "Well, at least that's something. Where were you all day?"

He decided on honesty. "I couldn't get up the nerve to knock."

"Tchah," Hermione tutted, and then paused while she seemed to be working herself up to say something. "Ron, I haven't felt so humiliated since ... since ..." She trailed off.

Ron supplied an answer for her. "Last year, when I was snogging ... erm, you know who?"

The ghost of a smile appeared on her face. "Him as well? I really hope you weren't, because Harry would have to kill you."

Ron could feel himself turning brick red as he realised what that had sounded like. "Er, I mean ..."

She interrupted him. "Worse than last year, actually, Ron. It was more like that time way back before we were friends, when you said how much of a nightmare I was in front of everybody. It just cut me to the quick."

His heart twisted yet again. She looked so hurt, and so wonderful, he wanted to pick her up and hold her and ... carry right on from where they'd left off the previous night. He didn't do any of those things, because he had a strong suspicion that if he tried, she really would start using her wand. "But it came out all right in the end, didn't it?" he said pleadingly.

"Yes. I don't know why I care about you so much, Ron. You keep hurting me." He could hear it in her voice too, real deep hurt. "Why, Ron? You can't tell me it wasn't what you wanted!"

"Well no, it was. Course it bloody was. I just --" he hung his head, ashamed that he'd let his own stupid hang-ups get in the way of what could have been something brilliant, something that, if Lupin's impression was right, might bring them closer than ever "-- I had to get my head round it, okay? I'd hate people to look at you badly because of me."

"You didn't mind what they thought when you were with you know who," she said nastily. "She wasn't worth worrying about, then?"

He winced. "Yeah, well, fair point. I probably did look at her like that to start with, all right? But then I started feeling like a right bastard, and ... well, you know it wasn't easy to break off in the end without hurting her feelings, because I reckon she did like me."

Hermione snorted. "Can't think why."

"Yeah, you can," said Ron with a tentative grin, which (to his enormous relief) got a half-grin in response.

"Well, all right, I can. I must be mad though."

He gently took her arm, and, when she didn't shake it off, pulled her over towards him. She looked at him with a sort of amused exasperation that made his heart want to burst, and he kissed her, a kiss which was more uncertain than he would have liked on both their parts, but felt like it was the place he wanted to be.

"We've been getting so close, Ron. I can't bear to lose that."

"Nor can I."

"We can't know if it'll be perfect, Ron. Yes, we might grow apart later or something --" he winced "-- no, I don't want to think that either, but we do know we're not going to change our minds just on a whim, are we? I thought, it's -- it's about time to take the next step. And perhaps we can't commit ourselves yet, say it's permanent, but I hoped this is right for us, Ron. It's not like we're in a normal situation, is it? I don't know that I can feel right just going on as we are much longer." She blushed. "I ... I need you as a lover, Ron, not just a friend any more, or even just a boyfriend. There, now I've said it."

He felt his breath catch. Hearing her say it out loud suddenly made him feel a whole lot more like an adult, far less like a uncertain boy; and when he looked at her the thought that Hermione wanted that from him made his heart swell up (among other things).

He kissed her again; and this time, after her first surprise, she responded to the urgency he must be showing. And then he found he'd somehow moved from the chair to the bed and she was in his lap, pressing herself against him, and their hands were everywhere again. He put everything he felt for her into that one kiss.

"Ron ... yes?" she asked faintly as they drew a breath.

"Yes." He'd answered instinctively, without stopping to worry, and he grinned as a weight seemed to lift from his heart. "There, now I've said it too."

"You're ... you're ready?"

"Yes." There was a noise from the hall downstairs, and he grinned as Lupin's parting words came back to him. "I want to make love to my brilliant Muggle-born girlfriend," he said, trying to ease his nerves with a joke. "Let's stick two fingers up to old Mrs Black, shall we?"

Hermione looked as if she wasn't sure whether to laugh or hit him. "So, right, you're saying you want to make love to me as a political statement?"

"What? No!" In desperation, he swung her down onto the bed before she could pull away. It was more clumsy than he intended, and he landed heavily on top of her, hastily propping himself up as she looked at him, startled. "Look, Hermione -- I want you. Just ... tell me I'm not being a bastard who's ... you know. Taking advantage."

She stared at him. "Taking advantage?"

"Yes ... you know I want this to work out. If we -- when we win the war -- or if we're still fighting it -- I don't want us to be regretting what we did. I don't want to lose you over some stupid thing again." He wasn't even sure what he meant, now.

The look in her eyes was scarily tender. "Ron," she said gently, "I think we both know what we want by now. I'm sure I'll never regret us making love. But if --" her expression wavered and her lip trembled slightly "-- if you're really not sure you feel the same about me, well, we don't have to --"

He could suddenly see them slipping into another row, another long drawn out and pointlessly tense situation, and again acted on pure instinct, dropping down to kiss her before she could talk herself (or him) out of it. And if again it was clumsier than he would have wanted, that couldn't be helped. She gave a little squeak of surprise as he crushed his lips against hers, then a low, soft moan as he lowered himself until their bodies touched. He shivered at the feel of her under him.

"I'm sure," he murmured in her ear, kissing it and her jaw and anywhere else that happened to be within range. She was so, so lovely, and when she gave a low moan and began rubbing against him, it felt like a shock from that ekklecity stuff (or whatever it was called).

"Need you, Ron," she murmured in his ear, her voice trembling. "Really need you?" It was almost a plea, as if she wasn't quite sure whether or not he might bolt again, and that really did make him feel like a bastard. So to reassure her that they were on the same page, he quickly felt for her jumper and started to work it over her head, startled to see that she didn't have a T-shirt on underneath it (but he wasn't complaining). He tossed it onto the floor without ceremony, then groped around behind her back, trying to undo her bra, with an embarrassing lack of success -- until she smiled at him, pushed him off her and unhooked it herself, dropping it neatly onto the floor on top of the jumper.

Ron gulped, and managed to force himself to gaze into Hermione's eyes despite the extremely appealing view lower down, although his hands seemed to be doing that charmed-to-work-by-themselves thing again. He could see from the way her face softened in acceptance that she'd understood what he was trying to convey -- I promise I'm not going to run away from you ever again, Hermione -- and when she leaned forward to run her hands through his hair and kiss him with tenderness, he knew that she meant, me neither, Ron.

He whimpered in protest when she pulled away, but it seemed that all she was doing was to feel for her wand. When she pointed it at herself, whispered "Arcere conceptio," and gave him a little invitational smile, that was definitely now the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

His cock felt as if it could bore a hole through his jeans of its own accord to get to her, but fortunately Hermione soon solved this problem, as she once again started to unfasten them. He helped things along by pulling his T-shirt off and throwing it onto the growing pile of clothes on the floor, amazed by how badly you could fumble doing such a simple task when you were about to finally do it with the girl you ... the girl you ... well, no point in pretending otherwise, the girl you loved.

Hermione kissed his chest again and worked her way down; his jeans and underpants were soon around his knees again, but this time he kicked them off himself rather than pulling them back up. And then suddenly he was naked next to Hermione, and wondering what the hell he'd ever been worried about.

"Hermione." His voice sounded hoarse, but he was long past caring about what impression he was making. He began kissing her shoulders, as the nearest convenient starting point to work down to her breasts. "I need you, too. Wanted this for so long. I'm sorry if I ..."

He almost thought he could hear a giggle and a mutter as he said this, but as he looked up Hermione interrupted him with another kiss. "Oh, Ron. Don't be. You don't know how long I've wanted this ..."

There still seemed to be a charm on his hands to make them work independently of his brain, but now it was apparently a different one that had them unfastening her jeans, which was absolutely fine by Ron. That was the kind of charm he would have been more than happy for old Flitwick to teach him. And then before he knew it the jeans were off and on the floor, together with her knickers, thus revealing exactly what he'd only imagined before; and suddenly they were both naked and staring at each other.

He'd fantasised about a naked Hermione a bit -- well, more than a bit -- well, no more than a few thousand times anyway -- but it was nothing compared to literally seeing her in the flesh at close range. He paused for a minute just to drink her in, taking her hands in his own and wrapping their fingers together, mentally filling in all the details he'd only been able to speculate about before -- the dark rings around her nipples, the fact that collar and cuffs matched as far as bushiness went, the faintest hint of a scar across her chest (the recollection of its origin making him shudder). She was looking at him almost ... hungrily, like she ... well, like she was thinking exactly the same sort of things as he was, and his cock was so hard now it felt like it could bore a hole in the door of a Gringotts vault, let alone a pair of jeans.

"I just want you so bloody much," he said with difficulty, cringing at the thought of her being disappointed after all this. "Hermione, I don't know if, you know, how well I can do this -- I mean, take my time ..."

She smiled weakly. "I know. I did sort of expect that. I have --" her cheeks turned slightly, and adorably, pink "-- read all about it, you know."

"The Standard Book of Sex Grade 1?" he joked, hugely relieved that she wasn't offended.

Hermione jabbed at him with her foot, because her hands were still tightly gripping his. "I'll have you know I read ahead to at least Book 4, Ron Weasley," she said mock-haughtily, then whispered, "But the main thing I found out is that it's like Apparition. You can't learn much from a book --" she leaned back against the pillow, pulling him with her, and nudging his legs with her feet to get him to move "-- you've just got to try it and see."

Ron didn't wait around for further instructions, verbal or physical; he let go of her hands and allowed her room to stretch out, his knee catching something sharp-edged as he moved. With a muted "ow!" he looked down to find that the corner of one of Hermione's books was digging into his leg. He lifted himself slightly, intending to move it for her -- but Hermione just impatiently kicked the book onto the floor, where it fell untidily on top of their clothes, and now that action was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

He propped himself up above her, gulping slightly as she parted her legs, looking nervous but expectant. Very carefully, he lowered himself between them, nudging her thighs further apart, and trying not to let the sensation of their bodies touching make him lose control. The random thought crossed his mind that he could have used a little bit of Occlumency training himself at this point. He moved one hand down rather awkwardly, trying to get his cock pointing in the right direction, but to his great relief Hermione saved him from mortification by realising what he was doing and reaching down to guide him, pushing her groin up towards him until he could feel himself just touching her opening, right at the edge. He shivered.

"Yes?" he asked huskily.

She swallowed. "Yes."

Ron needed no further invitation to thrust himself inside her. They both shuddered and gasped, in his case because the feel of her warm, moist skin around his cock was sending pulses of desire right through him. He didn't dare move for a few seconds, partly because he simply needed to get control of himself to stop him from coming straight away, partly because Hermione's gasp had obviously included a little hurt; but when he caught her eye again she smiled encouragingly and then tentatively started to move against him.

He began to thrust in and out, very slowly, fighting not to move faster in the way he desperately wanted to because he knew he couldn't last long if he did. Hermione didn't seem to mind; she was breathing heavily, clamping her legs tightly around him, her back arching, her feet clumsily attempting to caress his thighs, and despite his desire to make it good for her, to give her what she needed, his desire for her soon became too strong. Everything blurred together as he moved faster and faster, actually feeling glad that he was so hard because it took him a little while longer to get there, and then he couldn't hold back any longer; she squeaked in what he really hoped wasn't pain as he slammed into her and it suddenly flooded out of him; and then he collapsed on top of her as the wave of contentment washed over him.

Every time his cock pulsed again over the next couple of minutes, he pushed into her again, and each time Hermione gave a beautiful sexy little moan, until he was finally spent. He was dimly aware that they were both sweating, holding tight as if the other might disappear like a dream if they didn't, and murmuring each other's names as if they were something unbearably precious.

Ron had no idea how long they lay there like that, kissing and nuzzling, although he knew it had to be longer than the act itself had taken. He blushed as he realised that could only have been about a couple of minutes. Then again, that was about a minute and three-quarters longer than he'd expected to last, but as for what Hermione thought about it ... He raised his head to meet her eyes with a slightly guilty look, but as soon as she saw it she simply kissed him. The expression on her face was a mixture of amusement, happiness, and a little bit of wonder, as if she'd never quite believed they'd really get this far.

He rolled away, onto his back, pulling her round to lie on top of him. "Love you, Hermione," he said automatically, and he was first alarmed and then pleased to realise that he wasn't just saying that because it was the sort of thing you were supposed to say when you'd just shagged your girlfriend, he genuinely meant it. He hastened to make that clear. "Really. No kidding."

"I know you do," she whispered. "I love you too," and although he'd certainly imagined Hermione saying those words to him, he'd never realised just how much better they would sound said for real. Especially while she was lying on top of him, stark naked. He pulled her down against him, hugging her so tightly she gasped and then giggled.

"Bit more than the emotional range of a teaspoon now then?" he teased her. "Tablespoon maybe?"

"Soup spoon, anyway," she said, prodding him in the shoulder. "But you're getting the hang of it."

"Good. Er, about getting me the hang of it, you didn't ..."

"No. But I bet I will soon." She shook her head in affectionate exasperation at his worried expression. "Ron, I've just finally done it with the man I love, and for your information, that just happens to feel bloody brilliant." She chuckled at his surprise, and then suddenly they were both laughing in happiness as they looked into each other's eyes. "I enjoyed it, you twit. Yes, I'd have liked it to go on longer, but you definitely got an Exceeds Expectations there. And anyway --" she grinned "-- I've got a homework plan for you. Starting right now."

He grinned in return. "That's the kind of homework plan I like the sound of ..." A sudden thought struck him. "Hermione, did we remember to put a Soundproofing Charm on the room?"

She put her hand over her mouth in horror and then bit her lip as if to stop herself laughing. "I'm not sure we did, did we? But it partly muffles sound from outside as well, and I can't hear much ..."

Ron listened hard; there were noises, but they sounded more like moans and squeaks than the usual creaking from the old building. Then he suddenly remembered. "I heard a giggle and a mutter from outside just before we ... er, got going," he said with a groan. "Lupin and Tonks have the next room along, I bet they put the charm on for us when they went by!"

Hermione looked horrified for a moment but then broke out in a delighted grin and shushed him, nodding towards the room next door, where most of what noise they could hear seemed to be coming from ... Ron felt his jaw drop as he understood what she was getting at. "And forgot to put one on their own room ..."

"Shall we return the favour?" she said, giggling and reaching for her wand, flicking it at the wall in a perfect non-verbal spell that cut off the sounds immediately.

"Brilliant," he said, grinning. "Now, about that homework ..."

As they reached for each other again, laughing, he reckoned that although they were young, yes, they had something special, that taking that step hadn't spoiled their relationship -- in fact it seemed to have strengthened it, cleared the air and helped them understand what they felt for each other.

He was sure it was the right time for them.

Additional Notes:
See the first comment below!