In Which I Assert Eternal Cluelessness...
...and justify the ways of Ron to fen.
I told you I felt the urge to write R/Lav smut. This isn't actually smut, though. More like PG-13.
ETA: Man, in my suckitude I forgot two things:
1. This is a missing moment (two missing moments, actually) from HBP Ch. 14.
2. I owe everything to my wonderful and gigglesnort-inducing betareaders: connielane, dim54, delemtri, second_batgirl, jenadamson, wahlee_98, tartanboxers, and my wonderful Britpicker daveydee_2. Also, to seviet and redwood7 for the inspiration!
The Temptation of Ron Weasley
Was it new for one, perhaps too busy to seek, to be the prize of a girl who would seek him?
- Emma Vol. 3 Ch. 11
She was smiling at him again.
It was almost enough to keep him awake in Charms class, having Lavender Brown staring at him and smiling every time his head turned in her direction. Almost. When Professor Flitwick lectured instead of setting them to practice charms, he could be almost as boring as Binns. Outside the autumn day was crisp and clear - perfect flying weather - but inside, the classroom air was thick with swirling chalk dust and the squeaky rasping of their little professor’s voice.
Ron yawned hugely and stretched. Immediately there was a rustling behind him to his right. From the corner of his eye, he could see Parvati nudging Lavender, and Lavender stifling a giggle behind her hand. He lowered his arms hastily, glancing at his mates to see if they’d noticed anything.
Harry hadn’t. He had stopped copying down random phrases about the theoretical principles of changing water into wine and was now taking the top off his ink bottle and putting it back on over and over again, his eyes glazed with boredom. Beyond Harry, Hermione was still taking notes. Her small brown hand, clenched tightly around her quill as usual, moved smoothly over the parchment as she steadily filled page after page. Usually Ron could spend an entire class period watching that hand move back and forth, but lately...
"So what if I am? I can have a pen-pal if I-"
Pen-pal? It wasn’t called having a pen-pal when you wrote long huge letters to someone you had snogged. It was called having a -
Ron crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. He’d warned her that Krum was too old for her, that he was up to no good... And she’d been only fourteen - no, wait, fifteen - anyway, she’d been young and she probably hadn’t wanted... She didn’t know how blokes were, and Krum had probably... He frowned fiercely, thinking of Krum’s big ugly hands all over -
"He's really nice, you know."
Ron snorted out loud. Harry and Hermione didn’t respond, but a glance to his right revealed Lavender looking at him with wide, curious eyes. He gave her an apologetic shrug and she grinned back at him as if they’d just shared a joke.
Lavender had been much friendlier lately - this whole school year, really. He’d used to think of her - when he thought of her at all - as silly and stuck-up. Well, not stuck-up, exactly, but always off doing her own thing, not a part of their life. But lately she’d been around more, and she was... nice. Good sense of humour. Smiled a lot. Seemed to appreciate a good joke and a good Quidditch game...
Ron’s shoulders twitched at the reminder of the next day’s match.
"You're the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves."
That was easy for Harry to say. Harry didn’t have a nerve in his body when it came to Quidditch; he’d never been anything but brilliant at it... never made a fool of himself in front of the whole school. And it didn’t exactly help that Harry kept sneaking little glances at him whenever he thought he wasn’t looking, obviously worried sick that his best mate was going to blow the game for the whole team.
Which he probably would.
"Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone should-"
Ron scowled. He could - barely - tolerate having his best friend treating him like a mental patient, but he’d be damned if he let his shirty little sister slag him off...
"And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron...”
Ginny could snog Dean senseless for all he cared, that wasn’t the point. But when an eighteen-year-old Bulgarian pushed himself on a fourth-year... there was no other word for it but disgusting. Well, and “sickening.” Why couldn’t she see that? Not that he was blaming her for letting Krum touch her... She had probably been curious - that was understandable. It wasn’t like she needed to save herself for... there wasn’t any reason why she couldn’t... it wasn’t like he could complain about it.
But...
"Who're you writing the novel to, anyway?"
"Viktor."
That was her problem. You’d think she’d realize that it had been a mistake, that Krum had taken advantage of her youthful curiousity, that it was wrong. But no, she kept writing to the git, almost like she’d liked it. Almost like they were...
No. That couldn’t be. She’d said “pen-pals” and Hermione didn’t lie. Kept secrets like a crazy woman, but she didn’t out-and-out lie. Not to him and Harry. Not to him. And she couldn’t have liked it, could she - with a grumpy ugly git like that? Sure, Krum was a brilliant Quidditch player, but that didn’t mean he knew how to... Of course, he had all those girls in his fan club that he could have practiced on... if kissing was something you had to be good at... or if it was something where being nervous made you rubbish at it...
“... and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!”
Black bile rose up from Ron’s stomach, choking him in a fog of rage and funk and a strong feeling that life was very, very unfair. Dimly he became aware that class was over and Harry and Hermione had put their books away and were waiting for him. Still scowling, he furiously crammed books and rolls of parchment into his bag. Blast it! His hand had hit the edge of the bag and his notes were falling in a slow-motion cascade to the floor. Harry caught the first lot of them, but the rest fanned themselves out over a large area.
“Oh no! ” Hermione flung herself to the floor and carefully gathered up the main body of notes, leaving Ron to pick up the few stragglers. Then she stood up, stacked them neatly, and held them out to Ron.
“Thanks,” he snarled, taking them roughly from her hand and shoving them again into the bag, only barely avoiding a repeat of the disaster. Harry offered his handful with a raised eyebrow and then hurried after Hermione, who was marching out of the classroom, hurt and anger radiating from her stiff back.
Ron sighed, hitched his bag over his shoulder, and moved to join them, cursing himself for his clumsiness and his bad temper. Now Hermione would be touchy for hours, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to cajole her -
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft touch on his arm. He looked around to see Lavender holding a piece of parchment out to him.
“Here, Ron... you missed one.” She smiled up at him with a hopeful expression, and he felt some of the defeated tightness leave his neck.
“Oh. Errr, thanks.” He took the parchment and stuffed it into the top of the bag. As he turned toward the door again, Lavender fell into step beside him.
“So, are you ready for tomorrow?” she said. Her voice sounded breathless - she was obviously excited about the match.
Ron repressed the swooping panic her question induced in him and tried for a light tone.
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Of course. We’ll slaughter them.”
Lavender beamed. “Great! Of course, you’ve been practicing so much. I mean, you’re hardly ever in the common room any more. In the evenings, I mean...”
“Yeah,” said Ron absently. They were at the door now, and Parvati was waiting there for Lavender. Hermione was halfway up the corridor with Harry lagging a bit behind her, looking over his shoulder for Ron.
“We have to go to Divination now,” Lavender was saying. “So... see you later? Maybe at dinner?”
“Yeah,” said Ron, “see you around.” He stretched out his pace to catch his two best friends, feeling a bit more cheerful. It was a beautiful day, they had a free period before dinner, and he might even play a decent match the next day. Stranger things had happened.
* * *
"You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning, that's why he saved everything!"
The words pounded in Ron’s brain as his feet thumped along the corridor to the portrait hole.
"You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning, that's why he saved everything!"
There wasn’t any reason she should have believed otherwise, he told himself. After all, he’d thought Harry had given him the potion too. But that wasn’t the same, somehow.
Why did she have to ruin it? He’d played really well - they’d beaten Slytherin, for Merlin’s sake - so why did he feel like he’d just got punched in the stomach? She was... she was... impossible to please, that’s what she was. Hermione’s face swam before him, her eyes burning with determination, her mouth open to scold him. How had he ever thought, why had he ever been mad enough to think that she would ever....
“Bollocks.”
“I beg your pardon?” The Fat Lady looked down her nose at him. “That is not the password, young man.”
“Dilligrout,” said Ron impatiently. “Now let me in.”
The Fat Lady swung her door open with a sniff, and the blast of the Gryffindor party met Ron with almost physical force as he climbed through the portrait hole.
At the sight of him, the room erupted in a ragged cheer. He couldn’t help grinning in response - they’d won, hadn’t they? Peakes and Coote converged on him, each offering a mug of butterbeer, and he took one in each hand, downed first one and then the other, and headed toward the fireplace where Dean was holding forth with animated gestures.
“Well done, Ron!” Parvati and Lavender stepped into his path, beaming. He stopped to accept their congratulations.
“It was a team effort,” he said. “Everyone played really well.”
Lavender nodded, her eyes shining brightly with... admiration? For him? She stepped closer.
“I thought it was the best you’ve ever played,” she said in a soft voice he had to lean down a bit to hear. “Some of your saves were so.... And that was so funny when you were leading the singing.”
Ron thought that he’d actually had a better match against Ravenclaw the previous year, but he wasn’t going to contradict Lavender when she was being so nice. He smiled and tried to think of something clever to say, something to justify the warm expectant look on her face.
Instead, Parvati cleared her throat. “Well,” she said brightly, “I’m off to the library then. Why don’t you two go over there -” she nodded to the table in the corner where the food was - “and get some sandwiches?”
Ron’s stomach rumbled and he instantly agreed. He could talk to Dean later. Parvati departed, and Lavender trailed Ron to the table, taking the same kind of sandwich he did and standing in front of him when he settled against the back of an armchair to eat it. She still looked like she expected him to say something, so he snarfed the sandwich down in one go and looked around the room.
“Good spread,” he said. “Who got the food and drink?”
“Oh, Harold Dingle and Seamus,” said Lavender. She smiled, making dimples appear on both sides of her mouth - Ron had never noticed before that she had dimples. “I reckon they’re trying to take your brothers’ place.”
“Well, good luck to them,” said Ron absently. Lavender was so close to him he could kind of... smell her. Her shampoo or whatever. It didn’t smell bad, and she looked prettier than he had ever noticed before. Her eyes were wide and dark, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were shiny and slightly parted.
Almost of their own accord, his eyes flickered downward, checking out her chest. Her tits were smaller than... some girls’, but they were high and kind of pushed up, and the jumper thing she was wearing went low enough that he could see the tops of them - nothing to complain about there. In fact... Ron couldn’t help grinning as he realized that with her standing so close he could look her in the face and look down her shirt at the same time.
Lavender responded to his grin with a pleased smile and put the last bit of sandwich into her mouth.
“I think we should always -” But what Lavender thought Ron was fated never to learn, because at that moment the portrait door swung open and his eye was caught by a familiar flash of brown hair as Hermione climbed in with an impatient twist. Still angry. Ron nodded along with whatever Lavender was saying, watching Hermione out of the corner of his eye.
She stalked over to the table by the window, her refusal to look in his direction as pointed as a blow in the face, and sat down with a flounce, her raised chin turned firmly away from him. Ron scowled and leaned closer to Lavender.
“Sorry,” he said. “I missed that last bit. What were you saying?”
Lavender flushed pinker and smirked. “What, do you want to hear it again? I said I like this blue jumper.” She reached out and fingered the material of his sleeve. Ron felt a warm glow spreading through him, like the time he’d tried Firewhisky, and a definite stirring in the region of his trousers. He took another look down Lavender’s body - he’d always thought she was too tall and thin, but she looked good from this angle. And her hand was still on his arm....
Hermione set her bag down with a thump, drew out a roll of parchment that Ron recognized immediately, and pulled out her eagle feather quill with a flourish. Ron’s vision darkened and a roaring noise filled his ears as he realized what she was doing. Writing a bloody letter to bloody Viktor Sodding Krum - that’s what she was doing. Probably all about what a great kisser he was, and how much she missed him....
Lavender gave his sleeve a tug, and he hastily turned his attention back to her.
“What?”
“I said it matches your eyes,” said Lavender, her own eyes looking bravely up into his. Ron froze, staring back at her. He had to... do something. His body felt electric - torn between conflicting desires - he wanted to run away, to storm over to Hermione and knock her parchment off the table, to grab Lavender and kiss her. The welter of emotions held him motionless for another instant, and then the dam broke. He would... he should... there was one thing he could do....
He straightened up from the chair he’d been leaning against and took a small step forward. “Lavender...” - Ron’s voice cracked, but he went on - “can I... can I kiss you?”
Lavender’s eyes widened, and she nodded, a flood of pink washing over her face. Ron put one hand on each of her shoulders and leaned forward - she kept her face turned trustingly upward - and carefully put his lips against hers.
It was-rather brilliant. Lavender’s mouth was soft and warm and she clutched him on both sides of his waist, pulling him closer. He put one hand on her back and pulled her closer in turn, giving himself the incredibly exciting feeling of her breasts squishing against his chest. She didn’t pull away, and Ron had to take his mouth off hers for a moment to breathe - he seemed to be panting. He used the opportunity to move his mouth to a different angle and this time he tried opening his lips, breathing into her mouth. It felt even better that way, so much better that he found his hand moving down her back, daringly close to the curve of her ass, and wondered if he should be doing something with his tongue.
Lavender pulled back - Ron’s gaze snapped to the table where Hermione... wasn’t... sitting and then right back to Lavender’s face.
“Sorry,” he said, not sure what he’d done wrong, “I didn’t mean...”
“No, it’s okay,” said Lavender, her voice husky and breathless. “I just...” She reached up a hand and touched the hair at his temple and trailed her hand down his cheek. “I just...”
She shrugged and pulled his head down to her again. Ron kissed her enthusiastically, feeling himself get harder every time her body moved against his. This kissing stuff was dead easy, but it was hard to keep his hands from going where they shouldn’t go. Right now, for instance, his right hand was moving up Lavender’s rib cage and brushing against the lower curve of her breast. If he could just...
Lavender gasped and pulled back just as he was about to cop a feel for the first time in his entire life.
“We shouldn’t...” she said, her voice a breathy whisper that turned him on even more. “I mean... maybe we should go someplace else.”
Ron looked at her, his eyes wide. Did she mean... was she going to let him...? He felt almost lightheaded at the possibilities.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, probably sounding like an idiot. “We should... classroom...” He indicated the portrait hole, hoping Lavender would understand what he meant. He led her across the common room, feeling his ears turn bright red as he realized how many people were staring at them, and how public they had been. He shouldn’t have tried to grab her tit right in front of everyone. He had been a giant prat again - as usual - he was surprised she even still wanted to let him kiss her.
As the door swung shut behind them, Lavender giggled and put her hand into his. Suddenly Ron felt much better.
“Come on!” he said, grinning down at her, and pulling her down the hall toward the nearest classroom and privacy. He was going to touch everything if she let him. Ginny was right - he should have tried this snogging thing ages ago. He pushed the classroom door open, still laughing, and froze in horror.
“Oh.”
Harry. Hermione. And a lot of... birds?
Harry and Hermione were both staring at him. He looked anywhere but at Hermione, hardly noticing when Lavender pulled her hand out of his and slipped backwards out the door.
This was not going to be good.
* * *
I told you I felt the urge to write R/Lav smut. This isn't actually smut, though. More like PG-13.
ETA: Man, in my suckitude I forgot two things:
1. This is a missing moment (two missing moments, actually) from HBP Ch. 14.
2. I owe everything to my wonderful and gigglesnort-inducing betareaders: connielane, dim54, delemtri, second_batgirl, jenadamson, wahlee_98, tartanboxers, and my wonderful Britpicker daveydee_2. Also, to seviet and redwood7 for the inspiration!
The Temptation of Ron Weasley
Was it new for one, perhaps too busy to seek, to be the prize of a girl who would seek him?
- Emma Vol. 3 Ch. 11
She was smiling at him again.
It was almost enough to keep him awake in Charms class, having Lavender Brown staring at him and smiling every time his head turned in her direction. Almost. When Professor Flitwick lectured instead of setting them to practice charms, he could be almost as boring as Binns. Outside the autumn day was crisp and clear - perfect flying weather - but inside, the classroom air was thick with swirling chalk dust and the squeaky rasping of their little professor’s voice.
Ron yawned hugely and stretched. Immediately there was a rustling behind him to his right. From the corner of his eye, he could see Parvati nudging Lavender, and Lavender stifling a giggle behind her hand. He lowered his arms hastily, glancing at his mates to see if they’d noticed anything.
Harry hadn’t. He had stopped copying down random phrases about the theoretical principles of changing water into wine and was now taking the top off his ink bottle and putting it back on over and over again, his eyes glazed with boredom. Beyond Harry, Hermione was still taking notes. Her small brown hand, clenched tightly around her quill as usual, moved smoothly over the parchment as she steadily filled page after page. Usually Ron could spend an entire class period watching that hand move back and forth, but lately...
"So what if I am? I can have a pen-pal if I-"
Pen-pal? It wasn’t called having a pen-pal when you wrote long huge letters to someone you had snogged. It was called having a -
Ron crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. He’d warned her that Krum was too old for her, that he was up to no good... And she’d been only fourteen - no, wait, fifteen - anyway, she’d been young and she probably hadn’t wanted... She didn’t know how blokes were, and Krum had probably... He frowned fiercely, thinking of Krum’s big ugly hands all over -
"He's really nice, you know."
Ron snorted out loud. Harry and Hermione didn’t respond, but a glance to his right revealed Lavender looking at him with wide, curious eyes. He gave her an apologetic shrug and she grinned back at him as if they’d just shared a joke.
Lavender had been much friendlier lately - this whole school year, really. He’d used to think of her - when he thought of her at all - as silly and stuck-up. Well, not stuck-up, exactly, but always off doing her own thing, not a part of their life. But lately she’d been around more, and she was... nice. Good sense of humour. Smiled a lot. Seemed to appreciate a good joke and a good Quidditch game...
Ron’s shoulders twitched at the reminder of the next day’s match.
"You're the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves."
That was easy for Harry to say. Harry didn’t have a nerve in his body when it came to Quidditch; he’d never been anything but brilliant at it... never made a fool of himself in front of the whole school. And it didn’t exactly help that Harry kept sneaking little glances at him whenever he thought he wasn’t looking, obviously worried sick that his best mate was going to blow the game for the whole team.
Which he probably would.
"Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone should-"
Ron scowled. He could - barely - tolerate having his best friend treating him like a mental patient, but he’d be damned if he let his shirty little sister slag him off...
"And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron...”
Ginny could snog Dean senseless for all he cared, that wasn’t the point. But when an eighteen-year-old Bulgarian pushed himself on a fourth-year... there was no other word for it but disgusting. Well, and “sickening.” Why couldn’t she see that? Not that he was blaming her for letting Krum touch her... She had probably been curious - that was understandable. It wasn’t like she needed to save herself for... there wasn’t any reason why she couldn’t... it wasn’t like he could complain about it.
But...
"Who're you writing the novel to, anyway?"
"Viktor."
That was her problem. You’d think she’d realize that it had been a mistake, that Krum had taken advantage of her youthful curiousity, that it was wrong. But no, she kept writing to the git, almost like she’d liked it. Almost like they were...
No. That couldn’t be. She’d said “pen-pals” and Hermione didn’t lie. Kept secrets like a crazy woman, but she didn’t out-and-out lie. Not to him and Harry. Not to him. And she couldn’t have liked it, could she - with a grumpy ugly git like that? Sure, Krum was a brilliant Quidditch player, but that didn’t mean he knew how to... Of course, he had all those girls in his fan club that he could have practiced on... if kissing was something you had to be good at... or if it was something where being nervous made you rubbish at it...
“... and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!”
Black bile rose up from Ron’s stomach, choking him in a fog of rage and funk and a strong feeling that life was very, very unfair. Dimly he became aware that class was over and Harry and Hermione had put their books away and were waiting for him. Still scowling, he furiously crammed books and rolls of parchment into his bag. Blast it! His hand had hit the edge of the bag and his notes were falling in a slow-motion cascade to the floor. Harry caught the first lot of them, but the rest fanned themselves out over a large area.
“Oh no! ” Hermione flung herself to the floor and carefully gathered up the main body of notes, leaving Ron to pick up the few stragglers. Then she stood up, stacked them neatly, and held them out to Ron.
“Thanks,” he snarled, taking them roughly from her hand and shoving them again into the bag, only barely avoiding a repeat of the disaster. Harry offered his handful with a raised eyebrow and then hurried after Hermione, who was marching out of the classroom, hurt and anger radiating from her stiff back.
Ron sighed, hitched his bag over his shoulder, and moved to join them, cursing himself for his clumsiness and his bad temper. Now Hermione would be touchy for hours, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to cajole her -
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft touch on his arm. He looked around to see Lavender holding a piece of parchment out to him.
“Here, Ron... you missed one.” She smiled up at him with a hopeful expression, and he felt some of the defeated tightness leave his neck.
“Oh. Errr, thanks.” He took the parchment and stuffed it into the top of the bag. As he turned toward the door again, Lavender fell into step beside him.
“So, are you ready for tomorrow?” she said. Her voice sounded breathless - she was obviously excited about the match.
Ron repressed the swooping panic her question induced in him and tried for a light tone.
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Of course. We’ll slaughter them.”
Lavender beamed. “Great! Of course, you’ve been practicing so much. I mean, you’re hardly ever in the common room any more. In the evenings, I mean...”
“Yeah,” said Ron absently. They were at the door now, and Parvati was waiting there for Lavender. Hermione was halfway up the corridor with Harry lagging a bit behind her, looking over his shoulder for Ron.
“We have to go to Divination now,” Lavender was saying. “So... see you later? Maybe at dinner?”
“Yeah,” said Ron, “see you around.” He stretched out his pace to catch his two best friends, feeling a bit more cheerful. It was a beautiful day, they had a free period before dinner, and he might even play a decent match the next day. Stranger things had happened.
* * *
"You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning, that's why he saved everything!"
The words pounded in Ron’s brain as his feet thumped along the corridor to the portrait hole.
"You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning, that's why he saved everything!"
There wasn’t any reason she should have believed otherwise, he told himself. After all, he’d thought Harry had given him the potion too. But that wasn’t the same, somehow.
Why did she have to ruin it? He’d played really well - they’d beaten Slytherin, for Merlin’s sake - so why did he feel like he’d just got punched in the stomach? She was... she was... impossible to please, that’s what she was. Hermione’s face swam before him, her eyes burning with determination, her mouth open to scold him. How had he ever thought, why had he ever been mad enough to think that she would ever....
“Bollocks.”
“I beg your pardon?” The Fat Lady looked down her nose at him. “That is not the password, young man.”
“Dilligrout,” said Ron impatiently. “Now let me in.”
The Fat Lady swung her door open with a sniff, and the blast of the Gryffindor party met Ron with almost physical force as he climbed through the portrait hole.
At the sight of him, the room erupted in a ragged cheer. He couldn’t help grinning in response - they’d won, hadn’t they? Peakes and Coote converged on him, each offering a mug of butterbeer, and he took one in each hand, downed first one and then the other, and headed toward the fireplace where Dean was holding forth with animated gestures.
“Well done, Ron!” Parvati and Lavender stepped into his path, beaming. He stopped to accept their congratulations.
“It was a team effort,” he said. “Everyone played really well.”
Lavender nodded, her eyes shining brightly with... admiration? For him? She stepped closer.
“I thought it was the best you’ve ever played,” she said in a soft voice he had to lean down a bit to hear. “Some of your saves were so.... And that was so funny when you were leading the singing.”
Ron thought that he’d actually had a better match against Ravenclaw the previous year, but he wasn’t going to contradict Lavender when she was being so nice. He smiled and tried to think of something clever to say, something to justify the warm expectant look on her face.
Instead, Parvati cleared her throat. “Well,” she said brightly, “I’m off to the library then. Why don’t you two go over there -” she nodded to the table in the corner where the food was - “and get some sandwiches?”
Ron’s stomach rumbled and he instantly agreed. He could talk to Dean later. Parvati departed, and Lavender trailed Ron to the table, taking the same kind of sandwich he did and standing in front of him when he settled against the back of an armchair to eat it. She still looked like she expected him to say something, so he snarfed the sandwich down in one go and looked around the room.
“Good spread,” he said. “Who got the food and drink?”
“Oh, Harold Dingle and Seamus,” said Lavender. She smiled, making dimples appear on both sides of her mouth - Ron had never noticed before that she had dimples. “I reckon they’re trying to take your brothers’ place.”
“Well, good luck to them,” said Ron absently. Lavender was so close to him he could kind of... smell her. Her shampoo or whatever. It didn’t smell bad, and she looked prettier than he had ever noticed before. Her eyes were wide and dark, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were shiny and slightly parted.
Almost of their own accord, his eyes flickered downward, checking out her chest. Her tits were smaller than... some girls’, but they were high and kind of pushed up, and the jumper thing she was wearing went low enough that he could see the tops of them - nothing to complain about there. In fact... Ron couldn’t help grinning as he realized that with her standing so close he could look her in the face and look down her shirt at the same time.
Lavender responded to his grin with a pleased smile and put the last bit of sandwich into her mouth.
“I think we should always -” But what Lavender thought Ron was fated never to learn, because at that moment the portrait door swung open and his eye was caught by a familiar flash of brown hair as Hermione climbed in with an impatient twist. Still angry. Ron nodded along with whatever Lavender was saying, watching Hermione out of the corner of his eye.
She stalked over to the table by the window, her refusal to look in his direction as pointed as a blow in the face, and sat down with a flounce, her raised chin turned firmly away from him. Ron scowled and leaned closer to Lavender.
“Sorry,” he said. “I missed that last bit. What were you saying?”
Lavender flushed pinker and smirked. “What, do you want to hear it again? I said I like this blue jumper.” She reached out and fingered the material of his sleeve. Ron felt a warm glow spreading through him, like the time he’d tried Firewhisky, and a definite stirring in the region of his trousers. He took another look down Lavender’s body - he’d always thought she was too tall and thin, but she looked good from this angle. And her hand was still on his arm....
Hermione set her bag down with a thump, drew out a roll of parchment that Ron recognized immediately, and pulled out her eagle feather quill with a flourish. Ron’s vision darkened and a roaring noise filled his ears as he realized what she was doing. Writing a bloody letter to bloody Viktor Sodding Krum - that’s what she was doing. Probably all about what a great kisser he was, and how much she missed him....
Lavender gave his sleeve a tug, and he hastily turned his attention back to her.
“What?”
“I said it matches your eyes,” said Lavender, her own eyes looking bravely up into his. Ron froze, staring back at her. He had to... do something. His body felt electric - torn between conflicting desires - he wanted to run away, to storm over to Hermione and knock her parchment off the table, to grab Lavender and kiss her. The welter of emotions held him motionless for another instant, and then the dam broke. He would... he should... there was one thing he could do....
He straightened up from the chair he’d been leaning against and took a small step forward. “Lavender...” - Ron’s voice cracked, but he went on - “can I... can I kiss you?”
Lavender’s eyes widened, and she nodded, a flood of pink washing over her face. Ron put one hand on each of her shoulders and leaned forward - she kept her face turned trustingly upward - and carefully put his lips against hers.
It was-rather brilliant. Lavender’s mouth was soft and warm and she clutched him on both sides of his waist, pulling him closer. He put one hand on her back and pulled her closer in turn, giving himself the incredibly exciting feeling of her breasts squishing against his chest. She didn’t pull away, and Ron had to take his mouth off hers for a moment to breathe - he seemed to be panting. He used the opportunity to move his mouth to a different angle and this time he tried opening his lips, breathing into her mouth. It felt even better that way, so much better that he found his hand moving down her back, daringly close to the curve of her ass, and wondered if he should be doing something with his tongue.
Lavender pulled back - Ron’s gaze snapped to the table where Hermione... wasn’t... sitting and then right back to Lavender’s face.
“Sorry,” he said, not sure what he’d done wrong, “I didn’t mean...”
“No, it’s okay,” said Lavender, her voice husky and breathless. “I just...” She reached up a hand and touched the hair at his temple and trailed her hand down his cheek. “I just...”
She shrugged and pulled his head down to her again. Ron kissed her enthusiastically, feeling himself get harder every time her body moved against his. This kissing stuff was dead easy, but it was hard to keep his hands from going where they shouldn’t go. Right now, for instance, his right hand was moving up Lavender’s rib cage and brushing against the lower curve of her breast. If he could just...
Lavender gasped and pulled back just as he was about to cop a feel for the first time in his entire life.
“We shouldn’t...” she said, her voice a breathy whisper that turned him on even more. “I mean... maybe we should go someplace else.”
Ron looked at her, his eyes wide. Did she mean... was she going to let him...? He felt almost lightheaded at the possibilities.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, probably sounding like an idiot. “We should... classroom...” He indicated the portrait hole, hoping Lavender would understand what he meant. He led her across the common room, feeling his ears turn bright red as he realized how many people were staring at them, and how public they had been. He shouldn’t have tried to grab her tit right in front of everyone. He had been a giant prat again - as usual - he was surprised she even still wanted to let him kiss her.
As the door swung shut behind them, Lavender giggled and put her hand into his. Suddenly Ron felt much better.
“Come on!” he said, grinning down at her, and pulling her down the hall toward the nearest classroom and privacy. He was going to touch everything if she let him. Ginny was right - he should have tried this snogging thing ages ago. He pushed the classroom door open, still laughing, and froze in horror.
“Oh.”
Harry. Hermione. And a lot of... birds?
Harry and Hermione were both staring at him. He looked anywhere but at Hermione, hardly noticing when Lavender pulled her hand out of his and slipped backwards out the door.
This was not going to be good.
* * *