Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6059974.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Hermione_Granger/Ron_Weasley
  Character:
      Ron_Weasley, Hermione_Granger
  Additional Tags:
      Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Loss_of_Virginity, Hand_Jobs, Semi-Public_Sex,
      Romance, Coming_of_Age
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-19 Chapters: 11/11 Words: 16777
****** Nights in December ******
by ScoresOfLooks
Summary
     Set partly during HBP and partly during the semester following DH,
     this is the untold sexual history of Hermione and Ron, told from the
     perspective of Hermione. From the first tentative touches, through
     the anguish of seeing the one you love in another's arms, to the
     elation of sexual exploration.
***** Introduction - A Night in December *****
Over the storied, thousand-year history of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and
Wizardry, the Prefect’s bathroom had achieved a status as either legendary or
notorious, depending on whom you asked. For some, it was a haven of rare
intellectual stimulation, wherein it was rumoured that many a great witch and
wizard had chanced upon solutions to problems, the results of which would make
them both rich and renowned. For others, it was one of the few safe places that
two students could go to be completely alone at Hogwarts, lending it an air of
romance for some, and promiscuity for others.
Abigail the Angelic was said to have invented the Scurgify charm in the
Prefect’s bathroom, finally ridding her of the stench that had plagued her
since the age of 13, as well as the name Abigail the Abhorrent. Tomren the
Tenor was said to have taken inspiration from the natural reverb of the room,
allowing him to train his singing voice until he felt confident enough to
perform in front of others.
And, perhaps most famous of all, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was said to
have broken into the bathroom by stealth in his fourth year whilst
participating in the Triwizard Tournament. With a single glance at the
centuries old painting of a mermaid on the wall, he had managed to solve the
mystery of the screaming egg.
Hermione Granger knew for a fact that this last tale was only partially true.
Harry Potter had indeed solved the mystery of the screaming egg in his fourth
year, but he had not solved it quickly, nor had he broken in. One of his
competitors, Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff, had told Harry to use the
bathroom, and the school ghost Moaning Myrtle had played a large part in
guiding Harry to the correct answer. Even so, it had taken him almost an hour.
Hermione was not going to the Prefect’s bathroom to ponder the meaning of some
arcane set of runes that she was set on deciphering.  She was going to meet
Ronald Weasley, her boyfriend, for what she expected would be a night of
passion that would tip the scales in favour of the bathroom’s reputation as an
erotic stimulant, rather than an intellectual one.
After the Battle of Hogwarts, both Harry and Ron had accepted jobs as Aurors
with the Ministry of Magic, under the new leadership of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Hermione, on the other hand, had decided to return to Hogwarts in order to
complete her seventh and final year. Though being apart from Ron had been
difficult, the problem of their separation had soon been resolved. Ron, Harry
and their former classmate Neville Longbottom and three other Aurors in
training had been stationed in Hogsmeade, charged with keeping the town safe.
They had soon found out that Hogsmeade was among the safest places in Britain,
and spent their days patrolling in groups of two, playing Wizard’s Chess, and
visiting The Three Brooms and The Hog’s Head.
Though bored with their training, all of the Aurors had access to Hogwarts, and
Hermione and Ron had made no secret of their relationship. Their participation
in the Battle of Hogwarts, as well as their well-known roles as travelling
companions of Harry Potter, had made them celebrities, and though overwhelmed
at first, Hermione had to admit that she had come to enjoy the attention.
Tonight, however, there was no whispering as she walked through the corridors
and no rude stares as she descended staircases. The halls of Hogwarts were
silent, save for the sighs of flickering flames. As Head Girl, no one would
think her reasons for patrolling the corridors nefarious. In spite of this,
Hermione could not help but cast nervous glances over her shoulder as she
walked. She had walked this path countless times before, but the thought of the
deeds she would do tonight made her advance faster than usual.
***** The Prefect's Bathroom *****
One week prior, Hermione and Ron had been in the Prefect’s Bathroom. Having
discovered that sound made within the Prefect’s bathroom could not be heard
outside it, they had taken to making love in the empty basin, creating a grand
cacophony of passion; the sound of flesh against porcelain mixed with
Hermione’s trills and Ron’s deep moans. After a particularly passionate session
in which Ron at one point had held her whilst standing, plunging into her until
she had to cry out in ecstasy, they had filled the basin to the brim with
jasmine scented water and floated around, hand in hand. Being regulars of the
Prefect’s bathroom, there were few surprises left to be had in the impressive
variety of taps on display. By now they had both memorized which tap produced a
stream that danced across the water in graceful arcs, which poured out foam so
thick that it could almost support their weight (Not quite, but almost) and
which contained the jasmine scented water which had become a firm favourite for
both of them.
However, one tap had had them confounded from the moment they first turned it.
At the very furthest end of the line of taps sat one with a clear, translucent
opal in the handle. When turned, it would produce a thick, slightly sticky
substance that seemed to sink to the bottom of the basin. Thinking it an
archaic fad of a thousand years ago, Ron and Hermione had paid it little mind.
But whilst floating in the basin on this howling December night, Hermione
glanced upon the tap and suddenly turned upright.
“Of course!” she exclaimed loudly, stirring Ron from his blissful lull.
“Of course what?” he asked, staring bemusedly at Hermione.
“The opal tap! I’ve finally figured out what it’s for! It’s a lubricant” she
explained, a wide smile spreading across her face.
“Guess this place really does give the brain a boost,” said Ron, returning the
smile, “but what do you mean by lubricant? A lubricant for what?”
Hermione swam up to Ron and whispered into his ear. “A lubricant for making
love. It allows everything to,” she pondered how best to explain, “slide much
more easily.” Her face turned bright pink. Ron’s eyes showed his dawning
realization, and then suddenly seemed to suggest that a myriad of possibilities
were coursing through his mind.
“Blimey, wish I’d known that earlier” he said, and Hermione threw her arms
around him as they both laughed. Ron kissed her neck, and she gave a satisfied
little sigh. Ron had his feet at the bottom of the basin and was holding her up
with his hands on her behind. She wrapped her legs around his waist and
relaxed.
“So, it’d be a shame not to use it, wouldn’t it?” Ron had suddenly asked her,
his neck resting against her shoulder. He was rubbing her firm behind with his
hand.
“Well,” answered Hermione, one hand in Ron’s thick red mane, the other on his
back, “it’s not as if we’ve ever really needed it.” She gave Ron’s earlobe a
playful nibble.
“I was thinking that maybe, since it’s Christmas soon and all, that we could do
something…” he paused before finishing, “…extraordinary.” He ran one finger up
Hermione’s spine, making her squirm slightly. He still had his other hand
placed firmly on her right buttock. “Something we haven’t done before.”
Hermione, who had had her eyes closed since throwing her arm around Ron’s
shoulders, suddenly opened them. She leaned back and stared directly into Ron’s
eyes. “What do you have in mind, Ronald?” she asked. She normally only called
him Ronald when she was particularly upset with him, but her tone of voice
indicated that rather than upset, she was apprehensive, but also quite curious.
She had no clue as to what Ron was referring.
“Well, I was thinking, if we take it slow and steady, that maybe we could make
love…” he wiggled the middle finger of his right hand, the one placed on
Hermione’s buttock, “…here.” He kept eye contact with her as he said this.
Hermione’s eyes widened.
“Ron! I don’t think that’s even possible!” she said, looking suddenly alarmed.
“How would you even fit? I feel completely filled out when we make love now. I
can’t imagine it could be done!” Her tone was not one of outrage, but merely of
disbelief that such a practice existed.
“It can be done; it just takes time and patience is all. Honest, I’ve read
about it. You slide a finger in first, gently, and then you massage until you
become relaxed. That’s what the lubricant is for then. Haven’t you ever
wondered how two blokes do it?”
Hermione suddenly felt quite stupid. She had never so much as considered the
mechanics of lovemaking between two men, but now that she thought about it, it
made a certain amount of sense. Their options were somewhat limited, that was
for sure. However, Hermione still felt unsure.
“It sounds like it would be rather painful. And where have you read about it?”
she asked, suddenly aghast at the thought of a book in the library containing
descriptions and illustrations of such an act.
“Seamus had a muggle magazine; it had an article about it. It’s not uncommon
for muggles apparently. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard about it.”
Hermione suddenly felt silent. Unknowingly, Ron had just touched upon something
that filled Hermione with no small amount of shame. Since Hogwarts had no
sexual education of any kind, and her parents had never mustered up the nerve
to have “The Talk” with her, Hermione was quite uneducated in the ways of the
human body. What she knew, she had learned from Ron’s sister Ginny, who was
quite well versed in the subject. Though she had never slept with anyone before
Harry, Ginny had been blessed with a mother who did not shy away from making
sure that her daughter was wholly prepared for her first intimate encounter.
Molly Weasley had taught her daughter about prevention, consent, and the
importance of feeling comfortable. Because of this, and perhaps because she had
grown up with six brothers, Ginny had always felt at ease around boys, and had
never felt the need to impress boys with sexual daring to compensate for a lack
of self-esteem.
Hermione, as an only child, had not. It had taken her quite a lot of courage to
ask Ginny about these subjects, as she was afraid the younger girl would laugh
at her ignorance. However, Ginny had proven to be discreet and incredibly
helpful. She had taught Hermione how to brew a potion that would prevent
pregnancy, she had answered all her questions about the intimate arts, and they
had talked at length about fantasies they had each had. All of this had,
however, come after Hermione had had her first intimate encounter, which in one
way had been a triumph, but had also led to months of misery.
***** The Burrow *****
It had been the summer holidays between her fifth and sixth year at Hogwarts.
Having taken part in the battle at the Ministry of Magic before the holidays
started, Professor Dumbledore had thought it best that Hermione spend as much
of her vacation as possible at the Burrow. Hermione had agreed, and though her
parents had been disappointed to see her leave after only a week at home, she
had promised them that she would definitely be coming home for Christmas.
When she arrived at The Burrow, she was surprised to find that Harry had not
arrived yet. According to Mr. Weasley, Ron’s father, this was because
Dumbledore had something special planned for Harry, though he had had no clue
as to what this was. Hermione had taken up residence with Ginny in what
Hermione assumed was the cleanest of all the bedrooms at the Burrow. Ginny
Weasley kept an immaculate room and Hermione could not help but feel like she
was intruding, being forced to keep her clothes in neat little piles. Ginny,
however, had been a gracious host, and quickly found something of interest
among Hermione’s belongings.
Being a witch, Hermione wore the same robes while at school as all other
Hogwarts students did. However, her remaining wardrobe was compromised
exclusively of muggle clothing. Ginny had been fascinated with Hermione’s
jeans, hoodies and shirts, but had become truly engrossed when she came upon
Hermione’s underwear.
The wizarding community considered underwear to be a purely practical type of
clothing, so when Ginny saw that Hermione had matching sets in different
colours, some in different materials, she could not help but marvel. Hermione
had never thought of herself as a fashionable girl, but she had always liked to
wear underwear that made her feel attractive. A particular fondness for lace
was evident. Ginny had showed clear signs of envy, and Hermione had promised
that when they could walk the streets of London safely again, she would take
her shopping.
On the night before Harry was due to arrive at the Burrow, Hermione had headed
up to Ron’s room to talk about a possible birthday present for Harry. It was
late, so Hermione made sure to tiptoe her way up the stairs, so as not to
awaken anyone. She could hear faint sounds coming from the kitchen, and assumed
that Mrs. Weasley was still up, either cleaning or sewing. Mr. Weasley would
most likely still be at work, and with any luck Fleur (Who was staying with
Bill in Percy’s old room) would have gone to bed by now.
Hermione was wearing a simple, blue nightdress that stopped just above her
knees. Unbeknownst to Hermione, the thin material was partly translucent,
revealing the blue lace underwear she wore underneath. The summer had been cool
so far, but this particular night was almost tropical, so she had eschewed her
dressing gown. She was so used to going to Ron’s room to speak to him that she
did not bother to knock, but instead opened the door and entered the room.
“Hermione, what’re you doing?” whispered Ron in a panicked voice. He had been
standing naked at his window, a maroon towel in his hand. Upon Hermione’s
entrance, he had turned around to face the door, seen who it was, and quickly
covered up, but not quickly enough. Hermione had seen Ron’s member, and in her
embarrassment was now almost lost for words.
“Ron, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, oh my word, why are you naked?” she rambled
in a high-pitched whisper, turning bright red. Ron, she noticed, had turned a
similar colour. She also realized that this was the first time she had seen Ron
without his shirt on since he had started as keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch
team. The tall, skinny boy she had once known had grown muscular, and he no
longer seemed gangly, but looked positively athletic. She was snapped out of
her appreciation when Ron spoke again.
“It was boiling up here, thought I’d take a shower before bed and dry off in
the breeze from the window. Why’d you sneak up on me like that?” Ron still bore
a shocked expression, but he did not seem angry with Hermione. Rather, he was
now observing her with a mixture of embarrassment and curiosity on his face.
Hermione tried to put on an expression that would betray neither her
embarrassment nor her sudden appreciation for Ron’s new physique. She could not
help but feel that she was failing on both accounts.
“I wanted to talk to you about getting Harry a present for his birthday,” she
explained, trying to salvage the situation. “I saw an ad for-” but she trailed
off. Ron had wrapped the towel around his waist, yet a bulge was starting to
form on the front of it. Hermione’s eyes widened.
“Ron, is everything alright? You’re… growing,” she exclaimed.
“Well I’d say you’re to blame for that, coming in here dressed like that,” he
said reproachfully. Hermione realized that her words had offended Ron, as if
what was happening was not at all uncommon, but that it was rather
embarrassing.
“Like what?” Hermione asked, perplexed. She had no idea what Ron meant, and
could not see how her clothing should have anything to do with Ron’s body
suddenly growing grotesquely.
“Like that! I can see through your night dress.”
Hermione took one look down at her night dress, and then quickly threw her arms
across her body, as if to shield herself. If Ron could see her underwear, then
he was seeing more of her than he ever had before. She felt acutely aware of
her body and stared at Ron, mortified.
“I didn’t realise it was this transparent,” she whispered so quietly that she
might as well have mouthed the words.
Suddenly, they heard someone ascending the staircase.
“That’ll be Mum coming to say goodnight. She can’t see you in here. Quick, jump
under the covers, I’ll turn out the lights,” Ron whispered rapidly. Without
giving it a second thought, Hermione threw herself onto the bed and pulled the
Chudley Cannons covers over her. Lying on her stomach with both arms down by
her side, careful not to make a sound, she heard Ron turn off the lights. She
heard him take two quick steps, felt him lift the covers, and suddenly she felt
his entire weight on her. Being unable to see anything, Ron had thrown himself
straight into bed, and landed on top of her, face down. Hermione almost cried
out, but managed to muffle it with the pillow.
The footsteps got louder, and just as the door opened, Hermione realized that
Ron had dropped the towel on his way to the bed. He was completely naked and
pressed on top of her.
“Ron? You asleep, dear?” Molly Weasley asked. Ron kept quiet, feigning the
slow, rhythmic breathing of a person in deep sleep. Hermione couldn’t have said
a word, even if she wanted to. Ron had her pushed firmly into the mattress, and
if he moved he risked breaking the illusion that he was alone in the bed. Had
Hermione been able to cross her fingers, she would have. She closed her eyes
instead, and hoped that the ruse was working.
“Thought so. Goodnight, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said. The door closed, taking with
it all light save for that which the moon let slip in through the window. As
Hermione listened for the steps to continue downstairs, she suddenly realised
that Ron’s member was still swelling. It was a curious sensation, like being
pushed against a slowly expanding balloon. She tried to move, but Ron kept her
firmly in place.
“I’ll move when I’m sure she’s back downstairs,” he whispered into her ear. The
rush of warm air on her face sent a small tremor through her body. Unwittingly,
she found herself pressing her behind against Ron’s pelvis. She had not meant
to do it. It was as if her body had simply acted on its own, seeking to fulfil
some secret desire that Hermione herself had never been aware of. She felt
mortified.
Then, adding to the horror of it all, she realised that Mrs. Weasley would be
checking in on her and Ginny to wish them a good night as well. In spite of her
mounting panic, she couldn’t help but notice how firm Ron’s torso felt against
her back and shoulders. Her whole body was tense as she listened.
They heard the door opening on the floor below. Then they heard Mrs. Weasley’s
voice again.
“Ginny, where’s Hermione?”
Hermione could suddenly not keep still. Her body shook involuntarily. She noted
once again that Ron’s member was still swelling.
“She went to the loo, I think. Left two minutes ago,” Ginny answered happily.
Hermione felt thankful that she had not told Ginny where she was going when she
left the room. She relaxed, but then a new feeling of panic crept over her.
Ron’s member, which until now had been growing larger against her leg, was
slowly inching its way forward, and was now resting between her thighs. The
panic was, to her surprise, accompanied by yet another tremor. She pushed her
head back and felt her cheek brush against Ron’s. His manhood was now pressing
even harder, attempting to push her thighs apart so as to continue on its
journey.
“Well, wish her a good night from me, will you? Goodnight, dear,” Mrs. Weasley
said. The sound of Ginny’s door closing could be heard, followed by that of
Mrs. Weasley descending the last staircases.
Hermione knew that she ought to get up and leave Ron’s room, but she could do
nothing until Ron himself got up. The situation she found herself in was
completely alien to her. Her only physical contact with a boy had been when
Viktor Krum had kissed her at the Yule Ball in her fourth year. Yet here she
was, in bed with a naked boy on top of her.
“Uhm, Hermione?” Ron suddenly whispered.
“Y-yes?” Hermione answered, not sure what else to do.
“Are you squeezing me like that on purpose?”
Hermione felt as if all the blood in her body had rushed to her head. Her hands
had found their way to Ron’s hips, and had started squeezing them.
“I’m so sorry, it happened by accident,” she whispered truthfully. She let go
instantly.
“Alright,” he said, and to Hermione’s surprise she thought there was a hint of
disappointment in his voice. Thinking it a spectre of her imagination she said,
“I think we should get up now. This must be uncomfortable for you.”
Ron quickly moved to the side and got out of the bed. Quickly grabbing the
towel and holding it in front of his manhood yet again, he said, “Well, I
wouldn’t say ‘uncomfortable’,” and gave a nervous laugh.
Hermione froze halfway off the bed. She suddenly found herself thinking of her
primary school days. One of the boys from her class had snuck a dirty magazine
into the school in his backpack, and had been showing the whole class during
lunchbreak. Hermione, ever the good student, had only caught a single glimpse
before running up to inform the teachers of this improper conduct taking place.
However, what she saw had been etched into her mind.
It had been a large photograph of a man and a woman. The woman, a pretty blonde
in heavy make-up, had been on her knees, her lips and left hand wrapped around
the man’s member, staring at the camera with a sort of cool detachment. The man
had been standing, and bore one of the biggest smiles Hermione had ever seen.
Whatever this act was, she remembered thinking, it had most certainly pleased
the man greatly.
Hermione sat up and looked straight ahead. In spite of the darkness covering
both of them, she was afraid to look directly at Ron. Having Ron on top of her
had spread a warmth in her body, and she found herself eager to explore it
further. She made the decision instantly; she would ask Ron if he wanted her to
pleasure him.
“If you want,” she started, “I could stay, and we could... do things.” She was
thankful that the lights were out. She was sure that the redness of her face
could match that of Ron’s hair at this point.
“Are you serious?” Ron asked incredulously. Hermione could not decipher whether
he sounded disgusted or surprised. She reasoned with herself that it had to be
the former. Though she had shed her baby fat over the past two years of
puberty, and grown a pair of modest breasts that she was quite happy with, she
knew that she was not considered a pretty girl. Viktor Krum had liked her for
her knowledge, she knew that.
“I’m sorry, Ron, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll leave now,” she said in a
small voice, and started feeling her way towards the door. She could feel the
tears welling in her eyes. She felt both ashamed and confused.
Suddenly, she felt Ron grab hold of her wrist.
“Don’t,” he said. Hermione looked towards him, and could see the outline of his
face through the darkness, “I want you to stay.”
Hermione smiled, feeling an almost heavenly elation, although she wasn’t sure
if Ron could see it. Wasting no time, she reached for the towel with both
hands, loosened it, and let it fall to the floor. Gingerly, she reached her
left hand towards where she thought Ron’s member would be, but once again Ron
had grabbed her wrist, this time pulling her into an embrace. Pushed against
him, she noticed that his manhood had sprung up towards his stomach, and was
now pressed in between their bodies. Unsure of how to begin, she decided to act
on instinct. She pulled her body away from his, and reached her right hand down
to touch it.
The moment she curled her fingers around his shaft, Ron gave an almost
inaudible moan.
“Did I hurt you?” Hermione whispered alarmed. She could not forgive herself if
she squandered this situation now.
“No, it feels amazing,” Ron had whispered back, and even through the darkness,
she could see that a smile had formed on his face. She smiled back, intent on
leaving Ron with the greatest grin of his life. She applied a bit more pressure
with her hand.
“Try sliding it up and down” he advised her. Carefully, she did as he asked.
She wanted to make sure that she did not act too rashly. As she started sliding
her hand up and down his shaft, Ron’s moans grew in volume. Hermione felt a
sense of accomplishment, and could not help but feel proud of herself. She
wanted this to be a particularly great moment in Ron’s life, and felt that she
could make it so. Still stroking his manhood, she got down on her knees, pulled
the tip towards her, and kissed it.
Ron shook, almost violently so. It was clear that he had not expected her to
take this course of action. She got scared for a moment, but he quickly
whispered for her to continue.
Hermione noticed that Ron’s member was quite a bit larger than the one she
remembered seeing on the man in the magazine. It was both thicker and longer,
with a base of curly red her. Emboldened by his reaction to her touches thus
far, she began kissing down the length of his shaft. When she reached the base,
she continued to the lower side, and kissed each testicle. The skin was not as
taut as that of the shaft, and in a moment of adventurousness she pursed her
lips on it and sucked slightly. She could tell that Ron had to struggle to not
gasp too loudly, and found herself smiling as she kissed back up the underside
of his manhood. When she reached the tip, she parted her lips and slid them
around it.
She heard a loud thunk as Ron bent slightly forwards and slammed his hands onto
the wall for support. Apparently the sensation was too much for his body to
handle by itself. She looked up at him through the darkness, and caught his
gaze. As he smiled down at her, she once again felt confirmed in her technique.
Feeling incredibly confident, she decided to wink cheekily at Ron. Doing so
caused him to emit a laugh that sounded almost nervous, and Hermione realized
just how much control she had over him at this moment.
She slid her head forwards and backwards, while her right hand slid back and
forth close to his shaft. She could only fit around five or six centimetres of
Ron in her mouth, but with all the saliva she had generated, both her lips and
her tongue flitted across his manhood rapidly. She suddenly felt Ron’s left
hand slide over her right cheek and into her thick brown hair. Before she knew
it, he was caressing the back of her neck.
Hermione lifted her left hand, and slid it up along the inside of Ron’s thighs.
She noticed that his breathing kept getting steadily heavier, to the point that
he was now almost breathing in gasps.
“Her – Mione!” he said, no longer able to whisper, “I’m going to finish.”
Hermione did not know what he meant by this, but she knew that she wanted to
find out. She began pulling her head back and forth faster. She reached her
left hand up to the pouch under his manhood, and just as she started fondling
it, Ron let out a deep moan and Hermione suddenly felt her mouth fill up with a
taste like saltwater. A thick fluid had erupted from Ron’s tip and straight
onto her mouth. Hermione looked up questioningly at Ron, unsure of what to do.
Ron was staring back at her, with a curious expression, as if he had just been
asked a difficult riddle after sprinting a mile.
“That was incredible, Hermione. Absolutely incredible.” He looked as though he
could not believe what had just happened. Unsure of how to communicate with
Ron, she simply slid her head back, keeping her lips sealed, and pointed at her
mouth.
“Oh, right,” said Ron, and quickly managed to produce a cup from his bedside
table. He handed it to Hermione, and she spat the contents of her mouth into
it. The taste had not been wholly unpleasant, but she had not expected it to be
salty. She caught Ron’s eye, and smiled. He smiled back down at her, and
suddenly they both began laughing. The whole situation seemed completely
ludicrous somehow. Hermione noted that Ron’s member seemed to be deflating
again.
Suddenly, the voice of Mrs. Weasley could be heard from the kitchen.
“Fleur, have you seen Hermione? She’s not in Ginny’s room.”
“I need to get back down to Ginny’s room,” whispered Hermione, suddenly feeling
panicked. She had not thought that Mrs. Weasley would keep looking for her, but
evidently this was the case.
“Oh, okay, yeah,” said Ron, sounding slightly flummoxed. Hermione would have
liked to stay with Ron, but thought it best not to tempt fate. She got to her
feet, opened the door, and hurried down the stairs as quietly as she could. She
reached Ginny’s door, opened it gently, and slid inside, relieved to find her
redheaded roommate already fast asleep.
***** A Night in December, part 2 *****
Hermione decided to do a full round of the school before heading to the
Prefect’s Bathroom. Should she run into Filch, it would be better to do so
while coming up from the dungeons rather than coming down from Gryffindor
tower. This would also give her time to build up some more courage.
She thought back to that night in the Burrow. She had been so proud with
herself. She had taken the first steps towards sexual discovery, and she was
finally shedding the virginal image that she felt had plagued her for some
time. Though she felt at the time that she could handle most of the ridicule
sent her way by some of the crueller students at Hogwarts, these taunts had
left her devastated.
She recalled one incident with particular clarity. Whilst nipping into the
toilet one day between classes, she had been unfortunate enough to overhear
Pansy Parkinson speaking to Millicent Bullstrode. Pansy had been regaling
Millicent with tales of how she and Draco Malfoy had skipped a transfiguration
class one day, only to make love in an empty classroom. From the sounds of it,
Millicent had had similar experiences with Vincent Crabbe. Hermione’s own
knowledge on the subject was sorely lacking, and she could not understand where
Pansy and Millicent had managed to gather all the necessary information to
actually engage sexually with someone. Though Hermione had tried to keep quiet,
Pansy had realized that she was in one of the stalls, and had started taunting
her. When she suddenly asked whether Ron or Harry had ever “fingered” her,
Hermione did not know how to reply, and Pansy and Millicent had shrieked and
cackled as they berated Hermione for being a virgin. Hermione had exited the
stall with her head held high, but the memory haunted her regularly. She did
not know why she should feel ashamed for never having been intimate with a boy,
but for some reason others thought that she ought to be, and it affected her.
Now, finally, she had taken the first real step. She had been aware of her
attraction to Ron for a long time, it was true, but his immaturity had always
allowed her to hold those feelings at bay. Now, however, as he was becoming
less of a man child, she felt that she could act on them, and after their
encounter in Ron’s room, the path would surely be open for them to finally
declare their feelings to each other.
But as Hermione passed the library and descended the stairs to the second
floor, she thought back to the events that had followed over the next few
months.
***** Theft and Misery *****
Hermione had hoped to that she would be able to speak to Ron in private the
next day, but unfortunately Mrs. Weasley set both her, Ron and Ginny to work
with cleaning the house in preparation for Harry’s imminent arrival. While Ron
went to work washing windows on his Cleansweep 7, Hermione found herself tasked
with ridding the garden of gnomes along with Crookshanks. When she had
finished, she was instructed to sweep the stairs while Ron cleaned the toilets.
When lunch finally came, Ron and Hermione found themselves sitting at opposite
ends of the table. Whenever Hermione tried to catch Ron’s eyes, it seemed as
though he was looking away, though she could have sworn several times that he
was looking straight at her.
After lunch, they had finally been paired for a task, but unfortunately Fleur
had accompanied them. They were tasked with feeding the chickens, and what
should have been an opportunity for Hermione and Ron to talk had instead turned
into an unpleasant afternoon of Ron focusing all of his attention on Fleur, who
in turn spent all of her time sitting on a chair besides the chicken coup,
unwilling to lift a finger to help.
“Oh, but I could not possibly go in zere, ze chickens vould ruin my robes,” she
had lamented, and Ron had been all too quick to agree with her. Whatever
thoughts of Ron growing more mature evaporated as the day went on, and that
evening, rather than confront him after dinner, she had stayed in Ginny’s room
and spent much of the night thinking up hexes and jinxes that might make Fleur
more bearable to be around. When Ron had knocked on the door and asked whether
Hermione wanted to talk about the present for Harry, Hermione had coldly told
him that it could wait. She had felt powerful in her rejection of Ron, thinking
this scorn well-earned on his part.
After Harry had arrived, Hermione had acted as though nothing had happened
between her and Ron, only speaking directly to Ron when in the presence of
other people, and in those cases often only to deride him for his apparent
fascination with Fleur. She had hoped that he would come to realize how his
juvenile fawning hurt her, but to her dismay he never seemed to understand. At
first, he had simply gaped at her, but in time he started to snap back at her,
clearly sick of the derision.
And then, upon returning to Hogwarts, everything had truly fallen apart.
While riding on the Hogwarts express, Ron had suddenly adopted his usual
friendly demeanour with her, and Hermione thought that the time might be right
to drop her hostility towards him. She decided that rather than throwing
herself directly at him, she would allow him to once again earn her trust.
And then, as if waiting in the shadows for just that moment, Lavender had
swooped in. Hermione could not believe it. In all her five years of sharing a
dormitory with Lavender, the girl had never once mentioned finding Ron, or any
boy other than Viktor Krum for that matter, attractive. Yet now she would
constantly laugh at his stupid jokes, greet him at every chance she got, and
brush against him when she passed him on the halls. At first, Hermione had felt
both repulsed and amused at this. She knew that Ron would never fall for such
desperate ploys for attention, and almost pitied Lavender.
But then, to Hermione’s surprise, Ron had actually fallen for it. After
Gryffindor’s victory against Slytherin in the first match of the season,
Lavender had grabbed Ron, who had requited her affections, and in public at
that. Hermione had watched it all happen, and felt as though someone had tied
an anchor to her heart. She watched as the man she cared for kissed another
girl. She had run from the Gryffindor common room, planning to sleep in an
empty classroom in order to avoid having to hear Lavender, whose evening
soliloquies to Ron’s merits had been almost unbearable before. She dreaded to
think what it might be like to hear her talk for hours on end of what Ron’s
tongue tasted like.
This had been the start of what felt like a war. Hermione had been furious with
Ron, and to make matters even worse, Ron had seemed completely unrepentant. She
felt hurt that he had not waited for her, but rather taken Lavender the moment
she threw herself at him. She felt disgusted that he would choose someone so
crass and simple, someone who would openly fawn at him. She felt hurt that he
would betray her in this manner. Above all else, she felt confused that Ron had
not waited for her. She had always thought that they had shared a mutual
attraction, not to mention a special night. Had she been wrong?
“No,” she had told herself, “Ron wanted me as much as I want him.” So what had
changed? Why had he given himself to Lavender, a girl she had never heard him
talk about even remotely fondly before? His attraction to Fleur had been
hopelessly obvious, but that could partly be attributed to Fleur’s veela
ancestry. No, Lavender had thrown herself at Ron all at once, and he had been
glad.
Hermione’s next gambit had been to make Ron jealous. For a short time, she had
dated Cormac McLaggen, the single most irritating person in all of Gryffindor
house (Harry had often argued that the Creevey brothers had long since earned
that distinction, but after their heroic deaths at the Battle of Hogwarts, he
had taken to remembering them more fondly). Cormac had escorted her to
Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party, and though the effect on Ron had been as
desired, she quickly found herself needing to hide from the perpetually
annoying and self-aggrandizing Cormac.
Yet even in spite of this, Ron and Lavender were still going strong. Hermione
could not understand it. She had tried to make Ron see his faults at every
turn, tried to subtly show him how he had been an idiot and a cretin, and
finally tried without any subtlety at all to make him feel how she felt.
Nothing had worked.
And slowly, Hermione realized that Ron must have felt rejected by her. After
their one intimate night at the Burrow, he had found himself separated from
her, just as she had from him. He may very well have been unsure of how to talk
to her. And then, all of a sudden, she had turned on him, for feelings he could
not always control. So for Ron, it had felt as if she, Hermione, had simply
found him uninteresting after that night. Either that, or he must have done
something wrong, but had not been able to figure out what.
The realization hit Hermione one evening as she lay curled up in her bed,
curtains drawn, immersing herself in Hogwarts, A History. It had struck her
like lightning, and she knew what she had to do. She would get up, find Ron,
and confess her feelings to him. She would apologize, and hope that he would,
if nothing else, forgive her. The thought of unburdening herself ran through
her, and she felt all of her muscles relax.
Suddenly, just as she was about to pull the curtains away and leave her bed,
Lavender had come in. Parvati Patil had asked her what she was smiling about
so, and Lavender had answered in a voice of breather ecstasy.
“Ronald and I – We’ve made love!”
Hermione’s mind had emptied itself at those words, and she found herself unable
to move, and hardly able to breathe. She sat frozen, scared to move for fear of
Lavender realizing that she was there.
“You’re serious? I can’t believe it, what was it like?” asked Parvati, who
could not help but giggle girlishly.
“It was,” Lavender paused for effect, “pure bliss. I went to see him after
Quidditch practice tonight, intent on,” another overly dramatic pause, “giving
myself to him completely. I waited outside the changing rooms until he came
out, and we snuck back inside together. We undressed, and he laid me down on
the floor, kissing my neck and…”
Hermione could not stand to hear another word. She grabbed her wand, and
wordlessly cast a spell that would block out all sound around her bed. She
could not hear any more of what Lavender was saying to Parvati, and Lavender
and Parvati could not hear her as she screamed.
***** A Night in December, part 3 *****
Hermione walked past the statue of Barnabas the Barmy. After the Battle of
Hogwarts, the Marauder’s Map had been turned over to Professor McGonagall, who
had sealed off all unauthorized paths out of Hogwarts. Hermione had never taken
this particular path, though she knew that it had allowed Harry to sneak into
Hogsmeade in his third year, even though he did not have permission to leave
the school grounds.
She continued on, and passed the massive oaken double doors that led into the
Great Hall. This was where the healing had started. This was where she had
begun to win Ron back. It had not been easy. She had had to swallow much of her
pride in admitting that she had been at fault, but once all was said and done,
she felt stronger for it.
Knowing that she would not be Ron’s first had hurt immensely. She had, for some
reason, always taken it for granted that she would be the first person that Ron
made love to, and vice versa. The fact that Ron had grown into not just a
handsome young man, but also a rather popular one, had come as a shock, and she
had been forced to accept that while she may have been both vigilant and
observant in most other areas, she had made a glaring oversight here. Lavender
had not been at fault either. She had simply acted, where Hermione had waited
for Ron to act.
The healing had started with simply being friendly towards Ron again. She had
finally realized that raging at him would only drive him further away. After a
few weeks, it finally felt as if she and Ron were becoming friends again. After
a month and a half, he had admitted to Harry that his relationship with
Lavender was not as perfect as she made it out to be, and Harry had in turn
informed Hermione. Ron had grown weary of her tendency to be overly
affectionate and protective, and he had later confided in Hermione that though
he assured Lavender that every gift she had given him was on display on his
nightstand, he had in fact stowed them away in a box under his bed.
Lavender did not take long to realize what Hermione was trying to do, and did
everything she could to prevent Ron from spending any time with Hermione at
all. She could not be omnipresent, however, and Hermione took every opportunity
to be close to Ron that she could. It was not gallant behaviour, but she was
not interested in gallantry.
When Lavender and Ron finally parted ways, it was both uncomfortable and a
relief. Ron had been poisoned, and was only saved at the last minute by Harry
shoving a rock down his throat. As Ron recuperated in the hospital wing, he had
moaned Hermione’s name and Lavender had fled in tears. Hermione had felt sorry
for her, but felt sure that a modicum of the glee she felt must have appeared
on her face as she watched Lavender disappear down the staircase. Ron was
finally hers, and for a few months, everything had been as it should be.
***** The Room of Requirement *****
It was Harry who had suggested the Room of Requirement to Ron. His reasoning
had been sound enough – If the room altered itself to fill the needs of the
person beckoning it, even needs that the person might not realize that he or
she has, then it would most certainly be the perfect place to be alone.
Hermione had wanted a secluded, private place for her and Ron to make love for
the first time. Though she would never be Ron’s first, she was happy for him to
be hers, and so they set off together, one evening in the late spring of their
sixth year, to the Room of Requirement.
To their surprise and dismay, the room had lived up to its reputation. It had
filled every need that Hermione and Ron had. There was a large four poster bed
with soft cotton linens. There was a bottle of the potion that could prevent
pregnancy (Hermione had brewed and consumed the potion herself earlier that
day). There was even muggle prevention in the shape of condoms, which Ron would
no doubt have found hilarious, were it not for everything else in the room.
For the Room of Requirement had also stocked itself with every conceivable type
of aid for lovemaking that either Ron or Hermione could think of, and around
ten times as many that neither of them could have conceived of at all. On one
wall, there was a large wooden cross with straps at each extremity. There was a
rack containing a selection of nasty looking whips and cat-o-nine-tails.
Perhaps most shockingly of all, there were full body suits of what looked like
dragon hide leather. Hermione and Ron had looking around the room for one
minute, and then decided that this was not a suitable setting.
Just as they had left the room, Ron had stopped in his tracks and looked back
over his shoulder.
“Ron, is something the matter?” Hermione had asked.
“I think I’ve got an idea. Just a moment.” He had turned around, gone to the
place where the door to the Room of Requirement would appear, and walked back
and forth three times. When the door appeared once more, he opened it, smiled,
and beckoned Hermione to come closer. Hermione joined him, and they stepped
inside together.
Where once the room had resembled nothing so much as a pervert’s dream, it was
now surprisingly spare. There bed was still standing in the middle of the room,
but that was about it. A few candles burned on the nightstand next to it. The
light they cast was subdued and romantic.
“Oh Ron, this is perfect! How did you make this?” Hermione had asked, throwing
her arms around him and fighting the urge to jump up and clasp her legs around
him as well.
“I just figured that we needed a room with a bed where we could be alone. So I
kept thinking ‘I need a place where Hermione and I can sleep’and the room
listened. I’m glad you like it,” he had said, staring into her eyes.
“I love it, Ron, and I love you.”
“I love you too, Hermione.” He tilted his head forwards, and gently pressed his
lips to hers. Hermione closed her eyes, and gently slid her tongue forwards.
She could feel his muscular torso even through his robes, and felt as if she
were about to burst. The moment was finally here, and though she was
frightened, she could not wait for it to truly begin.
She reached up with one hand, and began unclasping her robes, but Ron stopped
her. He took her hands in his, and guided them to the front of his own robes,
indicating that he wanted her to undress him. She obliged, and suddenly felt a
tingle as he ran a hand up her side, and continued the work that she had
started. Soon, their robes fell to the floor. The room was so quiet that the
sound of their robes falling was like that of an audience in a concert hall,
collectively drawing and holding their breath. Hermione gazed upon Ron’s body
and felt overjoyed. He was covered now by nothing but a simple pair of black
briefs. As Hermione’s eyes travelled up his thorax to his face, she saw that he
was staring at her, mouth agape.
“Blimey, you really are something else,” he said, and Hermione saw that he was
admiring her underwear. For the occasion, she had chosen a special set of black
lace underwear. She smiled back at him.
“I wanted this to be a special evening, so I sort of dressed up,” she said, and
gave him a confident smile.
“Of course this night’s special. I’ve wanted this for ages, Hermione. You’re
the most amazing witch I’ve ever met.”
At this, Hermione raised herself on the balls of her feet, leant close to Ron
and whispered “Take me to bed. Make love to me.” Before she even had time to
get back down on her heels, Ron had lifted her off her feet and carried her to
the bed where he lay her gently down. As he lay down next to her, he started
kissing her neck, whilst running his hand over her abdomen. She cooed into his
ear, and he slid one hand to her chest, and began kneading her left breast
through her brassiere. Pushing up against him, she started kissing his chest
while running a hand along the inside of his thigh. She opened her eyes, and
relished the sight of his manhood growing steadily, as it had done the summer
before.
Suddenly, without her noticing it, he had taken his hand to her back and
unhooked her brassier. He slid it off with both hands, and then threw it across
the floor. Hermione could not help but smile shyly at this rough behaviour. It
was part of what she had always found least attractive about Ron, yet now that
they were lying in bed together, this overtly masculine act only made her want
him more. All of a sudden, he pulled her into a sitting position on his pelvis,
so that they were face to face. His member was completely stiff now, and she
could feel it rubbing against her own private parts. She had touched herself
before, always while thinking of Ron, but this was something else entirely. His
erection felt formidable, as if it was a force in and of itself. Without
thinking about it, she started rubbing against it.
Ron moaned, and Hermione knew that she was pleasing him. He put one hand on her
behind, and gently squeezed it, while pushing and pulling in time with her
movements. She threw her head back and let out a soft cry. As she did so, she
felt Ron’s lips close around her left nipple, and the cry turned into a
pleasured sigh.
With another quick movement, Ron had again turned her around. She was still
sitting on him, but now had her back to him. He brushed her hair gently over
her right shoulder, and she felt his tongue on the back of her neck. Suddenly,
a hand was once again kneading her breasts. Hermione had only just agreed with
herself that no more pleasure could possibly exist, when Ron pushed his hand
slowly down the front of her panties, over the soft mound of hair, and down to
the opening of her wet vagina. There, he began rubbing her, and Hermione closed
her eyes and found herself in nirvana. She was feeling an assortment of stimuli
that she had never experienced together before, and she was willing to give
herself in completely. Then, Ron whispered in her ear.
“That night, in my room, I wanted you to stay. I didn’t get to taste you at
all,” he said. Hermione’s eyes snapped open. Was Ron saying what she thought he
was? She looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with him.
“Please,” she answered, “I’d really love that”.
And with another quick but gentle motion, he had her on her back, and was
pulling her panties off. Hermione felt exposed, but she did not want to cover
herself. She and Ron were lovers now, and she would hide nothing from him. He
knelt down, and started kissing her stomach. Hermione closed her eyes, and felt
him draw circles with his tongue, first around her belly button, then down over
her mound of hair, until finally, he reached her opening. There, he began to
lick her outer labia, and caress them with his lips. Hermione squirmed and
squeezed her legs together. To her surprise, Ron didn’t seem to mind. He placed
a hand on each of her hips, and intensified his efforts. His tongue seemed to
trace around her with military precision, until finally it breached the outer
walls, and found its way to her clitoris.
Hermione let out a cry when he reached it. It was a feeling unlike any she had
ever felt before. The fear she had felt when contemplating this moment seemed
to drift away, for she knew that Ron would take care of her and be gentle. She
arched her back so as to make it easier for him, and he took full advantage of
her helpfulness, using one hand to push her up by the behind. His tongue was
both strong and soft, and the sensation of his lower lip gliding across her sex
made her toss and turn, although Ron kept her firmly in place.
“Ron,” she whispered, almost inaudibly, embarrassed of letting the words out of
her mouth, “I’m ready.”
Ron pulled his face up, smiled at her and nodded. As he sat up, Hermione
reached out and pulled down his briefs. The tip of his manhood was bared, and
it glistened in the candlelight. She once again became aware of how large it
was. She had heard tell that the first time was often painful, but that
relaxing could remedy that. She had considered brewing a calming draught, but
had decided against it. She wanted the full experience. Even if it hurt, she
wanted to be completely present.
“Hermione, I’m going to put it in now. I’ll be careful, alright?” Hermione felt
blessed. She knew that Ron would be as gentle as possible.
She lay back down, and Ron crawled on top of her, planting firm kisses on her
chest, throat and lips on the way. She felt the tip running up along the inside
of her thigh, and reached a hand out so as to guide it. When it reached her
opening, Hermione took a deep breath, looked Ron in the eyes and nodded. As he
slid it in, Hermione could not help but tense up. The feeling, though pleasant
at first, was alien, and she was still scared of it hurting.
“It’s alright, just try to relax. The more you relax, the less it’ll hurt,” Ron
said, and kissed her again. She breathed deeply, and felt it slide further into
her. Though she did her best to relax, Hermione did feel some pain. She looked
up at Ron, and a tear started glistening in her eye.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice all tenderness and compassion.
“It’s alright,” she said, determined to continue and hoping that the pain would
subside, “just keep going slow.” He had kissed her again, a deep kiss that
seemed to communicate more than love and lust. It seemed to communicate
devotion and protection. She threw her arms around him.
After a while, the pain had indeed started to subside. Hermione felt that the
sensation was more curious than pleasurable, but wanted to keep going until Ron
finished. She kept kissing his neck and throat while he thrusted, and
occasionally she even whispered naughty words of encouragement to him.
“It feels so big inside me. You have to be gentle.”
“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
“You’re so strong. You make me feel so safe.”
“I’m yours, Ron. Yours alone.”
With each utterance, Ron had grown more impassioned, and though Hermione still
felt some pain, she wanted Ron to feel invincible. At her last utterance, he
let out a long moan, and finished inside her. It was like a warmth spreading
inside Hermione, and she relished it.
Ron pulled out slowly, and lay down next to Hermione. Hermione noticed that
there was blood on the sheets. She had expected this, as Ginny had told her it
might happen. She curled up against Ron, and kissed him.
“Thank you,” she said, and Ron had laughed.
“You don’t really have to thank me for that. Any time, day or night, say the
word.”
At that, they both laughed, and Hermione fell asleep in his arms.
***** Interlude *****
“If I agree to this,” Hermione started, looking at Ron across the jasmine
scented water with a mischievous grin, “then you have to catch me in the
library.”
She had made up her mind. Though she was apprehensive about letting Ron make
love to her as two men would, she trusted him. And as an added bonus, she could
use this as leverage to get Ron to indulge her in her greatest fantasy. She
would be an unruly student, out of bed in the darkest hours, rummaging through
the library’s restricted section. He would be Head Boy, catching her red
handed, and disciplining her with rough lovemaking right there. Ron had never
dared, scared of Filch stumbling upon them and risking expulsion, but for
Hermione it was the ultimate fantasy.
“What, the library?” Ron looked shocked, but she could tell that he was
seriously considering it. He clearly wanted them to have this forbidden kind of
love. After a few seconds his expression grew determined.
“Alright. But can we at least make some sort of diversion in the dungeons to
keep Filch away? I don’t fancy having him catch us, or worse, watch us in
silence.”
They both laughed at this. Through loving Ron, she had found herself laughing
much more often. She threw her arms around her lover and kissed him.
“So it’s settled then. You catch me in the library and teach me a lesson, and
in return I’ll let you do… that to me. Deal?” she whispered into his ear, after
which she nibbled it lightly.
“Agreed,” he said, and pulled her into one of his soul soothing kisses.
***** Return to the Prefect's Bathroom *****
After agreeing, she and Ron had flipped a Galleon to decide whose fantasy would
come to life first. To her chagrin, the Galleon had landed showing tails,and
Ron would get his way first. Through the past week she had been anxious,
excited, mortified and aroused in turn. The anxiety about this new sexual
endeavour had been almost ever present for the first three days, but finally
she had dared to ask Ginny for advice.
As was ever the case, Ginny’s adventurous nature meant that she had already
made this sort of love with Harry. She assured Hermione that with careful
preparation, this kind of love making could be not just pleasant, but
particularly intense and pleasurable when coupled with other types of
stimulation. She instructed Hermione on all necessary preparations and
precautions, and urged her to relax.
“You have to want to do this. It’ll all work out fine, you just have to let
it.” These had been Ginny’s last words, before she pressed a small vial of
lubricant into Hermione’s hand and confided in Hermione that she would be
meeting Harry that night for precisely that sort of lovemaking.
Hermione had taken Ginny’s words to heart. She wanted to prove to Ron that she
could be adventurous, and this was the perfect opportunity. That same night,
Hermione took the first step by herself. Having cast the same muffling spell
that had shielded her from Lavender’s retelling two years ago, she undressed
until she was completely nude. She opened the vial Ginny had given her and
poured some of the lubricant onto her right pinkie. She took a deep breath,
found her back opening, and began circling it with her finger. When she felt
sure that it was sufficiently slippery, she slid the tip of her pinkie inside.
It was a strange sensation, but not an unpleasant one. She slowly slid the rest
of her pinkie inside, turning it slightly to test for pain. There was none, but
neither was there any pleasure as she was used to. Having this opening filled
was pleasant, but not much more. Then Hermione remembered that Ginny had said
that it was best coupled with other forms of stimulation. She closed her eyes
and thought of Ron, all six feet of him, crawling into this very bed with her
while others lay asleep around them, not a shred of clothes on his body. She
reached her other hand down and started caressing herself.
To her surprise and delight, she did indeed feel as if the stimulation was
heightened with a finger in her backside, and after only five minutes she
reached her plateau and her body convulsed gloriously. She slowly pulled the
finger out and took some deep breaths.
What had first been an utterly strange sensation had now become an additional
stimulation, and she found herself becoming more and more open to the idea of
Ron making love to her in this manner. She still felt anxious at the thought of
Ron trying to fit his entire manhood in her, but when she considered how her
own small finger had intensified her experience, the anxiety was alleviated by
excitement.
                                       *
Hermione stood facing the door to the Prefect’s Bathroom. She was determined to
do this, not just for Ron, but for herself as well. This was to be as much an
experience for her as it would be for him. She took a deep breath, whispered
the password and stepped inside.
The bathroom was empty. Ron would undoubtedly arrive soon. Suddenly unsure of
what to do with herself, Hermione began pacing back and forth. Part of her
wanted to exit the bathroom and return to Gryffindor Tower. But she had made
her mind up, and had made a commitment to boot. She sat down on the edge of the
bathtub, laid her wand on a stack of towels and started breathing deeply to
centre herself. She remembered how her self-pleasuring had been augmented by
the inclusion of a stray finger, and felt herself starting to relax. As long as
Ron was gentle and patient there was no reason why this should not be wondrous.
The door opened and Ron entered, looking over his shoulder. He was wearing a
black winter robe over formal trousers, a dark vest over a crisp white shirt, a
maroon tie, and a pair of simple black shoes. As he closed the door and caught
sight of her, his face broke into a wide, compassionate smile. Hermione got up,
returned his smile and beckoned him towards her. As Ron started to walk
forwards she held up a hand, halting him.
“That’s far enough. Stay right there. You cannot move or speak until I say so.
You may nod or shake your head to answer in the affirmative or negative. Do you
understand?”
Ron looked surprised, but very enticed. He nodded and stood stock still,
awaiting Hermione’s next command.
“I haven’t changed my mind, Ron. We’re still going to do this. But I want to
have a little fun first. I want you to take off your clothes slowly. You are
not to move any closer to me while doing so. Do you understand?”
Ron nodded and smiled. He had internalized the cardinal rule quickly. Hermione
watched him with hungry eyes.
Ron returned her gaze and donned a mischievous smile. With a single hand he
unclasped his robe and let it fall to the floor. Then, he bent down and untied
the laces of each shoe before removing them. He then removed his black socks.
He straightened himself, and once again locked eyes with Hermione whose gaze
had grown even more lustful. He pulled off the vest and slowly loosened his
tie. Upon slackening it, he lifted it off his neck and threw it across the
room. Hermione’s eyes followed it before darting back to once again behold Ron,
who had now started unbuttoning his white shirt. He did it at a deliberately
slow pace, clearly enjoying the sight of Hermione holding her breath as she
watched him. When he unbuttoned his last button, she exhaled loudly, and Ron
could not help but smirk.
“Like that, do you?” he asked her, not realizing his mistake.
“No talking, Ronald!” Hermione snapped with mock authority, and with a flick of
her wand she had managed to once again button Ron’s shirt. “You can start over
on the shirt for your transgression,” she said satisfied.
Ron had no choice but to acquiesce, but he was not unhappy. He once again had
the pleasure of silently tormenting her by taking longer to unbutton each
button. When he finished for the second time and slid the shirt off, Hermione
was blushing. The sight of Ron’s torso never failed to arouse her. Ron slid a
hand over his belt, locking eyes with her all the while. Hermione bit her lip,
and felt her cheeks burning. The belt was loosened, and Ron slid it from the
belt loops in one smooth motion. He dropped it to the floor, and the sound of
the metal buckle hitting the tiles left a pure note ringing in the bathroom.
His trousers hung low on him now, revealing the edge of his black briefs. He
unbuttoned the single button on his trousers, and then unzipped, letting them
fall to the floor. Hermione was impressed by the grace with which he stepped
out of them, but immediately found her eyes drawn to the bulge on the front of
his briefs. Clearly, she had not been alone in getting aroused at this little
game. She stared at it expectantly, but Ron had planted his hands on his hips
and merely stared at her, smiling a crooked smile.
“Ronald, it’s not very chivalrous to keep a woman waiting. Undress this
instant,” she ordered, though the tone of arousal in her voice surpassed that
of authority. Ron kept smiling at her, clearly intending to somehow disrupt the
game for his own benefit.
“What’ll you do if I refuse? Put more clothes on me? I don’t think you can
punish me without punishing yourself,” he said with a hint of triumph in his
voice. Hermione bit her lip, cursing internally. She did indeed have one last
punishment up her sleeve, but she did not want to use it just yet. She would
have to play the game with him, rather than making him play the game for her.
Unwilling to let him take complete control, she stood up and unclasped her robe
in much the same manner as he had, letting it fall to the floor. Before Ron
could say anything, she had also pulled off her sweater, and now had one hand
at the top button of her shirt.
“Well, I suppose I was a bit hard on you,” she said, feigning shame and swaying
slightly on the spot, “But the same rules apply. You can’t come any closer
until I say so, alright?”
Ron nodded, clearly not wanting to upset the game any further for now. Hermione
smiled, bent her left leg back and slid off her slipper. She did the same with
the right slipper. Holding both of them in one hand she started unbuttoning her
shirt, slowly revealing the bright crimson brassier she was wearing underneath.
This was part of a set she had been saving for a special occasion, and she saw
Ron’s eyes widen as he caught sight of it. His reaction made her feel powerful.
Even though he could easily cross the room and throw her over his shoulder if
he wanted to, he wanted her too much to dare risk it. This slow torture aroused
both of them, and Hermione was not about to rush anything. She unbuttoned the
last button and let her shirt fall to the floor. Ron was breathing heavily, and
Hermione noticed that he was almost fully erect.
Looking suddenly both triumphant and slightly delirious, Ron started walking
towards her cockily, but Hermione had anticipated it. She snatched her wand off
the stack of towels with lightning speed and whipped it towards Ron. Long
strips of black cloth extended from the floor and suspended themselves around
Ron’s wrists, keeping him in place. He looked at her with an expression of mild
alarm and confusion.
“Hermione, what’re you…” he started, but Hermione cut him off.
“Oh Ronald, you broke the rules again. I made it so clear. Now I can’t trust
you, can I? I guess I’ll really have to take charge now,” she said, smirking.
Ron realized that she had not restrained him in order to end the encounter, and
seemed to relax. He smiled at her.
“It does seem like I’m at your mercy now,” he said, trying to sound defeated.
However, he only managed to sound excited. Hermione’s smile widened. She turned
around for effect, and pulled down her skirt. As it fell, exposing her matching
crimson panties, she heard Ron’s breathing becoming more rapid. She looked over
her shoulder, looking disinterested.
“Oh, I’ve never showed you this set, have I?” she asked, though she knew the
answer very well. She saw that Ron was trying to struggle against his
restraints. She turned to face him.
“You’re pure evil, you are,” Ron said, and Hermione could not help but laugh.
Ron was jesting, but she could not pretend that she did not enjoy having this
power over him. She walked towards him, stopping only inches from his body.
“I’m not so bad, Ron. I can be quite… kind,” she said, running a finger from
his throat, down across his torso, before stopping at the edge of his briefs.
Ron shook, and Hermione flattened her hand against his stomach. “Do you want me
to be kind to you?” she asked, and Ron nodded curtly, trying to maintain some
dignity. Hermione smiled and turned his back on him.
“Well, why didn’t you just say so, Ron?” she asked rhetorically, procuring a
towel from the stack and placing it on the floor in front of Ron, “All you ever
had to do was ask.”
Ron was once again pulling against his restraints, smiling wildly. Hermione
knew that he was enjoying this as well, even if it felt like torture. She
lifted one hand behind her back and loosened her brassier. She turned her head
down as it fell to the floor, and then lifted it again to catch Ron’s gaze. His
face was red and his gaze was ravenous. She walked up to him and embraced him,
making sure to press her body as close to his as possible. She could feel the
heat of his breath on her head and his body shaking slightly. She had him in
her power.
She let go, and in one deft movement slid off his briefs, revealing his
engorged member. She grabbed hold with one hand and stared directly into Ron’s
eyes.
“Compliment me, Ron,” she said. Ron seemed confused at first, then stammered
out “You’re amazing, Hermione.”
Hermione pouted to convey dissatisfaction. “Oh Ron, that’s so very vague. Isn’t
there anything more specific you could say about me?” she pleaded, but she
began slowly stroking his member anyway, hoping to encourage more words of
praise from him.
“You’re the most beautiful witch in the world, Hermione!” Ron panted, and
Hermione smiled at him. Now they were getting somewhere. She tightened her grip
slightly, and began stroking faster.
“You’re the smartest, kindest person I’ve ever met,” Ron panted again, shaking
even more with Hermione’s strokes. She had held his member countless times, and
knew exactly the pressure and speed that he enjoyed most. She was slowly
working towards it.
“Oh, you’re so sweet, Ron. But I think you can get even more specific than
that,” she whispered teasingly into his ear.
“There’s no one like you. No one can even compare!” Ron shouted the words, and
Hermione could not help but smile. It was at times like this that she felt that
she could not be trusted with power. She simply enjoyed it too much. She got
down on her knees on the towel, and started rubbing the tip against her breasts
in turn. She felt them harden at the touch.
“Oh Ron, you’re making me blush,” she deadpanned, staring straight at him with
mischievousness painted on her face. She would have to be careful not to
overexcite him.
“You’re the naughtiest bird in the world! Absolutely filthy!”
Ron seemed suddenly shocked that he had said this, and so was Hermione. Ron had
never spoken to her in such a crass manner before. But Hermione felt a rush as
she processed the words. Ron had called her beautiful, kind and intelligent
more times than she cared to count. But he had never complimented her sexual
nature in this manner. A rush of pride swept through her. In an instant, she
replaced the firm yet gentle stroking with a more violent one. Though she was
wary of breaking her façade of authority, she could not help but stare directly
at Ron’s face, eager for another such compliment. She began gathering saliva in
her mouth for what was to come next.
“You handle a cock like no one else. You’re an absolute pro!”
Hermione blushed bright crimson, and wrapped her lips around Ron’s member, both
to hide her reaction and to spur Ron on further. The saliva she had gathered
allowed her to slide far along his length without any friction. He groaned
loudly, and the sound was amplified by the tiled interior of the bathroom.
Hermione could not help but reach a hand down and caress herself.
“Every time I see you I want to push you against the wall, rip off your clothes
and take you right there. That’s the effect you have on me.”
Hermione had heard enough. She slid Ron’s member out of her mouth, and got to
her feet. Leaving Ron agog, she picked up a chalice from one of the window
sills, walked over to the edge of the bathtub and turned the opal tap. As a
stream of the thick substance began to flow, Hermione held the chalice
underneath until it was full to the brim. She turned off the tap, turned
around, and placed the chalice in the tiled floor. Ron finally seemed to
realize that she was not about to call the evening off, and seemed to relax.
She passed over to him in two quick steps, grabbed his member with her right
hand, pulled his head towards hers with her left, and kissed him deeply. Ron
was a disciplined and tasteful kisser, but his tongue betrayed his desire and
hunger. She pulled away and smiled at him.
“I’m going to release you now, Ron, but I want to make it very clear that I am
still in charge. You are going to make love to me the way we normally do. When
I say so, you may dip your finger in the chalice, and slowly put it me...
there. Then, when I say I’m ready, we can make love that way. Am I understood?”
Her tone of voice had been equal parts authority and playfulness. She wanted
Ron to have the night of his life, but she had to make sure that he understood
that it was on her terms.
“Completely,” he said, smiling, “we’ll do this as slowly as you need. You give
the commands, and I’ll follow.”
Hermione smiled wide. She flicked her wand, and the constraints around Ron’s
extremities dissolved into thin air. Hermione spread a towel across the floor,
and with a flick of her wand inflated it to the thickness of a mattress, more
than wide enough for two people. Ron turned towards her and pulled her into a
kiss, running both of his hands over her body. His hands slid down the sides of
her torso, and before Hermione realised it, her panties had slid onto the
floor. They lay down together, and in her eagerness Hermione practically pulled
him into her. Their foreplay had aroused her more than sufficiently, and she
could not wait a moment longer.
Having Ron on top of her and inside her was bliss. The feeling of his sculpted
torso against her breasts, his deep, slow, meticulous thrusts, his warm breath
by her ear and along her neck – all of it made her shudder. Having been lovers
for two years, they had turned it into an art, equal parts precision and
intuition. Ron knew exactly how to move his pelvis against hers, and it wasn’t
long before Hermione felt ready to take the next step.
“Ron, I want to be on top of you.”
Ron obeyed instantly. He pulled out of her, allowing her to get up, then he lay
down on his back as she crawled on top of him, pushing her body down on his.
Hermione had come to particularly adore straddling Ron. She placed both of her
hands on his stomach, sat bolt upright, and started rolling her hips. Ron threw
his head back and groaned deeply. Hermione knew to be careful in this position,
as she had previously found it to be one of the few weaknesses in Ron’s
otherwise formidable stamina. Were she to continue for too long, or move her
hips too vigorously, he would not be able to withstand. After a few minutes of
slow rolling, making sure to keep Ron pleasured but not overexcited, she held
his head with both hands as whispered in his ear.
“Use lots of it, alright? And just slide your finger around the entrance to
begin with.”
Ron understood. Hermione pressed her torso against his, and she could not help
but close her eyes as she awaited his touch between her buttocks. She had only
put her own finger inside her backside once before, and she was still not
completely accustomed to the feeling. She wanted to feel comfortable with two
before she would allow Ron to make love to her backside.
Suddenly she felt it. Ron was tracing slow, methodical circles around her back
entrance. Hermione kept her eyes closed, but could not help but tense her body.
Ron kissed her neck reassuringly as the circles got smaller, until finally he
was stimulating the entrance itself. He had indeed taken a generous amount of
the lubricant on his finger, and as he caressed her, Hermione relaxed a bit
more. It was not unlike when she had done it herself, and as she remembered how
the stimulation had heightened during self-pleasure with the introduction of a
finger, she finally relaxed completely.
“Put it in very gently,” she whispered to her lover.
As Ron slid his index finger into her backside, Hermione let out a small gasp.
She could feel that he had only introduced an inch of his finger, and yet she
already felt as if the whole experience of their lovemaking was changing. It
was as if she could suddenly feel the full length of him in her womanhood, more
so than she had been able to before. Every little movement seemed amplified.
She was eager to feel even more.
“Go further, but slowly,” she said.
Ron obeyed, and an ecstatic moan escaped Hermione as Ron introduced the full
length of his index finger into her. As Ron started moving his finger ever so
slightly inside her, Hermione found her hips moving almost by themselves. She
kissed Ron deeply. She could not quite believe that she had allowed him to
enter her backside like this, but the pleasure was so immense that she could
not wait to feel the full length of him inside her like this. After a few
minutes of Ron’s tender exploration, Hermione felt ready to take yet another
step.
“Put another one in, but be really careful, Ronald. Do it very slowly.”
She closed her eyes, and though the introduction of another finger was not
unpleasant, she did feel as though it was an incredibly tight fit. She found
herself having to take a few deep breaths.
“Are you alright? Shall we stop?” Ron asked her. Hermione shook her head,
though she was glad that Ron had been prepared to cut his fantasy short for
concern for her. She would see this through to the end. According to Ginny,
this was the point where she had to give it a few minutes as she adjusted and
her backside relaxed and expanded.
“It feels good, just keep sliding them in and out for a bit. We’re getting
there, Ron.”
Ron smiled at her, and as he slid the two fingers in and out of her he also
found time to meet the swaying of her hips with that of his own. Hermione could
not help but cry out in pleasure. As she got used to the second finger she
could truly appreciate how it increased the stimulation she felt. She bent her
head down and panted Ron’s name repeatedly. She knew that this was a particular
turn on for him, but she could not help herself. She was feeling him more than
she ever had before, and time almost seemed to stop. When she opened her eyes
again, she knew that she was ready to take him completely.
“I’m ready, Ron,” was all she said. He nodded and pulled his fingers out of her
backside. Hermione lifted herself off of his member, and laid down flat on the
towel with her legs spread slightly. She was expecting Ron to pounce on her,
but to her great surprise she first felt him kiss her from the back of her neck
and down across her back. She heard him lather up his member in the lubricant,
and then felt him crawl up upon her, a leg on each side of hers.
“If this starts hurting, you tell me and I’ll pull out, alright?” Ron said, and
Hermione once again felt blessed for having such a compassionate lover. She
felt him align his tip with her back entrance, and then, slowly and tenderly,
he slid it inside her. She let out a long, almost inaudible sigh as she felt
his thickness and length fill her up. It was even more intense than the two
fingers, but thanks to their patient warm up she was prepared for it. She felt
no pain, but rather an extreme stimulus. She could not contain herself at all.
“Oh yes! Ronald! Keep going, it feels amazing!” she all but screamed. She
turned her head enough to see that Ron was smiling at her. By her estimation,
two thirds of his manhood was inside her now.
“Glad you’re enjoying yourself. I’m going to push it all the way in, tell me if
I have to stop.”
Hermione felt the rest of his length sliding easily into her, and she let out
yet another long trill. This was pleasure as she had never felt before. When
Ron had pushed himself all the way into her, he slid his member back out
slightly, and then back in yet again. Hermione accompanied each movement with
an ecstatic moan. She even started pushing herself against his pelvis, eager to
feel all of him. Emboldened by the positive response he was getting, Ron
increased the speed of his thrusting. Hermione screamed as she had never done
before, a euphoric cry that reverberated throughout the bathroom.
“I’m almost there, Ron. Keep going!”
About to reach her plateau, she pushed her right hand under her pelvis and
started caressing herself.
Within seconds, pure bliss swept over her, and her body tensed up. Just as it
did, she heard Ron groan deeply, and she felt a new warmth spreading inside
her. Slowly, he lay down on top of her, and they both panted heavily. When she
had finally regained her composure, Hermione turned her head to kiss Ron. He
turned his head, and their lips met.
***** A Night in December, part 4 *****
The scent of jasmine once again permeated the Prefect’s bathroom. The enormous
bathtub was full of warm, soapy water, and the only source of light came from a
handful of lit candles in the windows. At the edge of the bathtub, Hermione
Granger was reclining in the embrace of her lover, Ronald Weasley. They both
had their eyes closed, and were enjoying the sound of the cold December winds
howling against the walls of Hogwarts.
“I should head back soon,” Ron said, breaking the silence in the room.
“No, you shouldn’t,” answered Hermione smilingly, her eyes still firmly closed.
“And sleep where exactly?”
“In my bed.”
“Boys can’t enter the girl’s dormitories, remember?”
“You can. I’ve just decided that it’s so. You’re going to come with me to my
bed and spoon me all night,” she answered, though they both knew that it could
not be. Though they were allowed quite a few luxuries, the spell that prevented
boys from entering the girl’s dormitories could not be circumvented.
“Sorry, Hermione, though I wish I could. Harry and Ginny are using the Room of
Requirement tonight, so that’s out too,” said Ron. Hermione didn’t want to open
her eyes, for she knew that it would spell the end of the night for them. As
long as she had her eyes closed, she could stay in Ron’s embrace for as long as
she wanted. She felt Ron lean his head towards her, and place a kiss on her
brow. She gave up, and opened her eyes to look at her lover.
“I suppose this is our lot for now,” she sighed. But she would not complain. In
six months’ time she would graduate from Hogwarts, and she and Ron could move
together in a place of their own. She closed her eyes and smiled.
“What’re you smiling about?” Ron asked, smirking.
“Am I not allowed to smile, Ron?” she retorted, donning a smirk of her own.
“If it were up to me you’d never do anything else.” They sat in silence for a
while.
“So,” Ron started, “when you say you want me to catch you in the library, what
does that entail?” Hermione beamed.
“I want you to catch me off guard. It has to be… quick, inspiring and naughty.”
“I can do that. I can definitely do that,” Ron answered.
***** The Library *****
Hermione was sure that it could not be a coincidence. This was the third time
she had felt it. The first time she had been standing on a step ladder,
reaching up towards “Experimental Antidotes of the Middle East” by Fillion
Shards, when she felt something brush against the outside of her thigh, under
her skirt. She had turned around, but seen no one. As she was in the restricted
section of the Hogwarts library, no one was even in the near vicinity of her.
She had brushed it off as nothing more than a stray breeze.
The second time, she had been bent over a table, studying some of her notes
when she once again felt a something brush the back of her knee. She had turned
around once again, but there was once again no one to be seen. She had cast a
spell that would reveal if a ghost was nearby, but to no avail. She had
attributed it to being overworked, and returned to her work.
This time, however, she had known that something strange was afoot. She had
been sitting at the very same table, absorbed by her book, when she once again
felt something brush the inside of her thigh. She gave a small squeak, jumped
to her feet, and looked around in alarm. No breeze would carry this far into
the library, and certainly not three times in a row. In the distance she could
hear the faint sounds of students turning pages and taking down notes,
intermingled with quiet footsteps and the occasional cough. It was eight
o’clock in the evening, and the library was quite full, considering that the
Christmas holidays were only two days away. O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students were
all working hard in preparation for their summer exams, and Hermione had been
able to secure a private spot in the restricted section where she could study
in peace.
Just as she was about to sit down again, she felt something squeeze her behind.
She took two quick steps forwards and spun around, but still there was no one
to be seen. Then it dawned on her.
“Ron? That’s you, isn’t it?” she asked aloud. She got no reply. Then, slowly, a
book slowly slid out from its place on a shelf, and stopped halfway. As
Hermione approached it slowly, another book further down the same shelf
extracted itself in a similar fashion. Hermione turned her head to make sure
that no one was near the restricted section.
“So, you’ve borrowed Harry’s cloak, I see,” she said. The only reply she got
was yet another volume sliding slowly from its correct position. Hermione
approached it, and pushed it back into place.
“Or perhaps I’m mistaken. Might you be some wise old spectre, attempting to
show me some arcane secret?” Another book slid out, followed by another.
Hermione noticed that she was being led towards the furthest part of the
restricted section. She followed, pushing the books back into place as she
went.
When she reached the furthest shelf, she found two books lying upon a small
table, both of them opened at specific pages. One was a book on library
etiquette, showing guests sitting and reading quietly. The other was something
else entirely. It was a copy of the Kama Sutra, opened on a page in which a man
and a woman were standing upright, with the woman turned ninety degrees away
from the man, one leg raised in front of her. The man was holding her leg up as
he entered her. Hermione blushed, and could not help but admire Ron’s
creativity. However, this was not what they had planned.
“Ron, the plan was for you to catch me tonight. We can’t do this now, there are
still other students, and Madam Pince is still in the library too. Imagine if
we got caught!” The only reply she got was yet another firm squeeze on her
posterior. Hermione blushed even more. As much as the thought frightened her,
she could feel herself becoming aroused.
“Oh, alright then, but you have to promise me that you’ll be careful, and not
too… vigorous. Don’t you dare make me moan!” she demanded.
Once again, she got no verbal reply. Instead, as if it had materialised out of
thin air, Ron’s erect penis appeared, hovering in mid-air. Hermione grabbed it
tenderly and stared smirking at where she presumed Ron’s head was.
“You are absolutely incorrigible, Ron Weasley,” she whispered, and slowly she
bent down and started kissing his shaft. Any doubts she had had as to the
identity of her invisible assailant disappeared as she observed the penis. From
the length to the thickness to the growth of red hair at the base, this was
without a doubt Ron’s penis. She pulled out a book at random, placed it on the
ground and knelt down on it. Taking an even firmer grasp of Ron’s manhood, she
wrapped her lips around it and started moving her head forwards and backwards.
Normally she would take things slower, but the thrill and risk of being caught
made her act quickly. With her free hand she lifted up her skirt, and pulled
down her panties just far enough to be able to stroke herself as well.
Hermione’s greatest fantasy, as long as she could remember having sexual
fantasies, had always been to make love in the Hogwarts library, preferably in
a manner that broke as many rules as possible. She had never thought that Ron
would take it this far, however. When she had first told Ron of this fantasy,
he had been apprehensive to say the least. Hermione knew that he had always
been somewhat frightened by Madam Pince. He certainly seemed to have overcome
this fear, however.
Ron’s right hand suddenly materialized, slipped into her shirt and started
kneading her breasts. Hermione groaned around his shaft, and had to pull back
for air. By habit, she looked towards Ron’s face, but saw nothing. This did not
stop her from growing more and more aroused, and she threw her lips around his
manhood once more and sucked greedily. Her own sex had become wet in no time,
and she stood up in one quick motion, still holding on to Ron’s erection. But
in the moment she did so, she heard a voice two shelves over.
“Granger? Are you still in here?” Madam Pince called.
In a panicked flurry, Hermione started buttoning up her shirt as Ron’s erection
receded into nothingness once more. She had only managed two buttons when Madam
Pince was suddenly standing in front of her. The librarian took one look at
Hermione before turning her eyes to the book on the floor. Just as her eyes
widened, Hermione spoke.
“I’m so sorry, Madam Pince, I was clumsy and I dropped the book and I’ve been
feeling stressed lately and it was so heavy…” She hoped that her flushed face
and exasperated breath would not betray her.
Had she been any other student, Hermione suspected, Madam Pince would have
chased her from the library without a moment’s hesitation. But her features
softened, and she looked at Hermione with sympathetic eyes.
“Of course, dear, I know that you take care of the books here, unlike so many
of the other wretched children they let into this school. I’ll take it to the
desk and inspect it, unless you still need it, of course?”
“Oh, no, it has most certainly served its purpose,” Hermione said, and she knew
that she was blushing. Madam Pince smiled at her.
“Don’t stay up too late tonight, dear. I dare say, you must be stressed, just
look at your shirt!” Hermione look down and realised that she had managed to
button each button to an incorrect hole, making her look even more dishevelled.
“I won’t, I promise,” Hermione answered, and let out a small laugh. Just as
Madam Pince turned around, Hermione felt a firm grip on her behind once more
and could not help but utter a surprised yelp. Madam Pince turned around and
looked at her inquisitively.
“Just a hiccough,” Hermione said quickly. She prayed that Madam Pince would
continue to mistake her arousal for a mixture of stress and disorientation.
“Bless you, Granger,” said Madam Pince, and smiled at her. As she turned
around, Hermione felt yet another squeeze, but this time she contained herself.
As she listened to Madam Pince make her way back to the library entrance, she
felt Ron lifting her skirt and pulling her panties down. Knowing that there was
nothing to see if she turned around, she let him pull them down and shivered as
she felt him run a hand up the inside of her thighs. She spread her legs ever
so slightly, and Ron took this opportunity to caress her sex and slide his ring
finger inside her. Hermione relished the feeling, but was eager to feel his
full length inside her. She placed her wand on the nearest bookcase.
“Take me, Ronald,” she whispered over her shoulder. She felt Ron extract his
finger slowly, and all of a sudden he had pushed her sideways against the edge
of the nearest bookcase and lifted her leg in a manner imitating the
illustration of the Kama Sutra. Hermione used one hand to steady herself and
with the other she grasped Ron’s member within the folds of the invisibility
cloak and guided it deftly to her sex. It took all of her self-restraint not to
moan as she felt him slide inside her. She threw her arm around his shoulders,
and suddenly founding herself almost fighting her own body. Indulging in this
forbidden fantasy had already aroused her to the point of losing all control,
and she wanted desperately to cry aloud, but knew that she couldn’t. The most
she would allow herself, as Ron slid in and out in a measured pace, was the
occasional whisper of her lover’s name. The mere thought of someone discovering
her now, shirt buttoned incorrectly, underwear on the floor and with one leg in
the air, had her at once horrified and ecstatic. She could feel Ron’s breath on
her neck and hear his occasional moans. At times she thought that she heard
someone entering the restricted section, but she was so enthralled now that she
would gladly risk it.
“I love you, Ronald,” she whispered, and her invisible lover responded by
sliding his full length into her so that she was forced to elevate herself to
the tip of her toes. The sensation brought her to the brink of a rapturous
scream.
Hermione could tell by the way Ron shook that he was nearing his plateau. She
wanted to push him over the edge in spectacular fashion, and remembering how
his naughty compliments in the Prefect’s Bathroom had affected her, she licked
her lips, expended her last remaining strength by pulling herself as close to
Ron’s head as she could, and whispered into his ear.
“I love the way you fuck me, Ronald, you glorious beast.”
Almost instantly, she felt Ron shudder violently and she felt that familiar
warmth spreading inside her. Upon finishing, he stood almost stock-still for a
few seconds before finally pulling out of Hermione and letting her onto her
feet again. Picking up her panties and putting them on quickly, she could not
help but smirk. Just as she was about to make a boastful comment, she felt Ron
place his hands on her face and place a deep, tender kiss upon her lips. She
gave in to it completely. Their mouths opened slowly, and their tongues met,
dancing carefully around each other. Hermione was about to wrap her arms around
Ron when a voice came from nearby.
“Granger, are you still here?” Madam Pince had returned. Hermione and Ron broke
their kiss. She heard Ron’s zipper just as Madam Pince turned the corner to
look at her.
“Granger, are you… Merlin’s beard, are you alright, Granger? Your face is beet
red!”
“I think…” Hermione said, deciding that she would not get any decent studying
done this night anyway, "I think that I’m overworked. I think I’ll turn in for
the night.” She gave Madam Pince a big smile.
“Well of course, dear, you’re practically here around the clock. Get yourself
some rest now, the library will still be here tomorrow,” the old librarian said
compassionately. Hermione nodded, walked briskly to the table she had been
working at earlier, gathered her notes and headed towards the hallway at a
brisk trot. As she walked down the hallway, she suddenly noticed the sound of a
second set of footsteps.
“Is the Room of Requirement available tonight?” she asked, a mischievous smile
spreading across her face.
“It is,” Ron’s disembodied voice replied.
“Well then,” she said, and quickened her pace slightly. She heard Ron’s
footsteps do the very same thing. As it caught up to hers, she increased hers
even more, now walking in quick strides. Just as she heard Ron adjusting to her
new pace once more, she set of at a run, laughing, and before she knew it Ron
was at her side, holding her hand. They ran through the halls, up the stairs,
heading straight for the Room of Requirement, ready to lose themselves in each
other once again. Or perhaps twice.
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