Sharp Dressed Man
Challenge: Hermione Granger, Ron's dress robes, the pond at the Burrow
Words: 3539
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione discovers the only thing better than perfection is messing it up.
The final fic, with smut to wrap the reunion. This has been a blast to write for, and I hope we do another one soon!
“You know, if you keep wearing that expression, Ron’s going to think you're mad at him again,” Ginny remarked, looking over her shoulder as she straightened the Congratulations! banner for Ron.
Hermione brought herself out of her thoughts with a jerk. “Sorry! It’s just that I put in my application at the Ministry, and I’m worried about getting accepted. And I seriously doubt that Ron would take my expression personally, anyway.”
Ginny hopped off of the stool with a snort. “First of all, you have nothing to worry about. Every department has been shitting their robes, hoping they’d wind up with you. Dad said so himself.” At Hermione’s disbelieving look, she amended, “Well, not in those exact words, but you get the idea. Secondly, yes, he would, or do you not remember a few months back when he thought you wanted to break up, when you were all in a lather over your N.E.W.T.s?”
Now that Ginny mentioned it, she did remember. Ron had met up with her for a day in Hogsmeade, and she had spent the entire time sighing, fretting, and scowling. She hadn't heard a word he had said, and hadn't mentioned what was bothering her. It had given poor Ron the impression that she was tired of him, but didn't know how to break it off. Apparently, he had pouted for several days, until Harry had grown frustrated and written her.
“I remember. Harry told me he had nearly decimated the entire Chocolate Frog population, trying to drown his sorrows. But today is about Ron, so I’ll just put off worrying, for now.”
“Good. Mum made enough food to feed an army, but not enough for Ron’s stress eating.”
Hermione giggled, smoothing out her flowered skirt over her knees. For some reason, it was one of Ron’s favorites, although he had never said why. But today was a special occasion, so she decided to humor him. And she was proud of him, really. After a year of helping George get back on his feet, he had finally followed his dream of becoming an Auror, and had been accepted last week. He had met with his instructor today, and had gone to pick up everything he would need for training. Harry, who had joined at the beginning of summer, had met up with him in Hogsmeade to help him pick everything out. He was in charge of getting Ron to the Burrow, for his surprise dinner.
A glance at the clock told her that the others should be arriving shortly; Percy and Arthur would be coming straight from work, while Bill would stop by the cottage to help Fleur with the baby. Charlie was at the shop with George, where he was staying so as not to spoil the surprise of his visit. Molly had been cooking all day, with reluctant help from Ginny, and willing ( but not exactly stellar) help from Hermione. There was fried chicken and garlicky mashed potatoes, boats of thick brown gravy, and parsnips. There were peas glistening with butter, and fresh, crusty bread. For dessert, there was a huge chocolate cake covered in a thick layer of frosting, apple tarts, and a lemon pie. Hermione knew he would most likely have second helpings of everything, and was privately afraid he would founder.
A flare of light from the fireplace announced the arrival of Arthur and Percy, the pair of them carrying on an animated discussion about the ineffectiveness of the regulations Arthur was dealing with on his latest case.
“Arthur, is that you? Oh good, Percy, too! I need you to start setting up the table and chairs outside,” Molly called, popping her head into the doorway.
“We’ll be right out, dear. Just as soon as we put away our briefcases.”
“Hello, Hermione! I saw you in the Ministry today; have you heard back on your applications yet?” Percy asked, setting his briefcase on the desk.
“No, but they said I should hear something within a week, so I’m not too worried, yet.”
He smiled, and patted her shoulder as he followed his father out the room. “No need to worry; you got excellent marks, and your references are impeccable. I’m sure you won't have any problems at all.”
Hermione appreciated his encouragement. Percy had been making more of an effort to be more personable, and it made his work related ramblings much easier to stomach. It was also nice to see him getting along better with Arthur; they had worked hard to heal the breach he had created, and he had been a help to Molly this past year, as well. While they were healing, Hermione knew that Fred’s death had impacted them deeply. Both of them had greyed significantly, and there were moments that the pain in their eyes overcame them.
“Bill, everything we need ees in ze bag; we’re only going to be here a few hours, not months,” Fleur admonished her husband, as she stepped briskly out of the fireplace, a small bundle in her arms. Bill followed, with a bag nearly six times the size of his infant daughter.
“I just want to make sure she’s comfortable!”
Fleur exchanged an amused smile with Hermione, rolling her eyes. Ginny crossed the room quickly, reaching for her niece.
“Pass her over, before Mum gets her hands on her!”
“Here she ees; I changed her right before we left, so you should ‘ave a good ten minutes of dry time.”
Ginny cradled the baby, making faces down at her. “Then in ten minutes, Mum can have her,” she quipped.
“Are we the last ones to get here? I tried to leave early, but things take longer with a baby,” Bill asked, looking around for the rest of his family.
“Not as long as you make them,” Fleur muttered under her breath, thinking that her husband was much more of a mother hen than a big, bad wolf.
“They’re already outside,” Hermione said, “Molly thought it would be too crowded in here.”
There was a loud rumble, and George and Charlie rolled out of the fireplace, landing at their feet. Their hair was mussed, and they were covered in Floo powder.They lay there, stunned, blinking slowly.
“The exploding Floo powder needs some work,” George noted, heaving himself to his feet and brushing off his robes.
Charlie, used to dealing with dragons, had been more surprised than anything. “Your choice of test subject could use some work, too. Next time you want to blow yourself up, feel free not to include me.”
Bill was more practical. “If Mum sees you like this, you won't have to worry about being blown up. I think you'd better run upstairs for a wash, before you join the rest of us out back.”
As everyone began to sort themselves out, Hermione used her wand to clean up the mess left behind on the carpet, before she went to help carry out the food. Since it was still August, the weather was still warm, but there was a nice breeze tonight to make it bearable. Molly directed everyone, while Fleur set out the plates and silverware, and Hermione placed the various bowls and platters down the center of the table. Ginny was still playing with the baby, although Molly kept glancing over, sure to swoop in when she had a spare moment. George and Charlie joined everyone eventually, slightly damp from a water fight and laughing at their lucky timing, since they didn't have to help with anything.
Everyone seemed to be relaxed and in a good mood, but Hermione couldn't help sneaking glances at her watch. Shouldn't they be there by now? Or had Harry gotten sucked into drooling over Quidditch gear, and completely forgotten that he had a job to do? Ron could be excused, since he had no idea about what was going on, but if they were much later, then Harry was going to have deal with a trio of irate women.
The sound of the back door creaking open drew everyone’s attention, and they all turned, watching as Harry stepped out, with Ron a few steps behind him. He was in the middle of saying something to Harry when he stopped, catching sight of all of them; as his family erupted in a chorus of congratulations, he froze, his jaw hanging open. His face turned a brilliant shade of red when he realized what was going on, and an embarrassed grin crept onto his face as first his mother, and then his siblings came over to hug them.
If any of them noticed Hermione hanging back, they would have assumed that she was just being polite, and letting them go first. That thought, however, had never even entered her mind. It was simply that she was rooted to the spot, unable to move. She had known that he would be needing regulation dress robes, but she hadn't expected him to be wearing them. But there he was, in superbly tailored dark grey robes, that somehow made him look more muscular than she knew him to be. And, what’s more, everything was straight and buttoned, his tie hanging perfectly, something that Hermione wasn't sure she had ever seen before. His new boots gleamed in the late afternoon light, and his hair, while still slightly long, had been brushed until it shone.
Her knees were weak, and she told herself not to be ridiculous as she clutched the back of a chair for support. It wasn't as if she had never seen him in dress robes before! Although.......there had always been something relaxed about them before; his tie partially undone, his collar unbuttoned. Or his hair sticking up in front, where he ran his fingers through. She had never seen him so......crisp. It was having an odd effect on her, and she hoped no one would notice.
Everyone was talking at once, and somehow, she ended up being seated directly across from him. He smiled at her, and started to say something, but was interrupted my Charlie asking him why he was all dressed up. Ron paused in the middle of loading a pile of chicken onto his plate, and looked down at himself in surprise.
“I had to pick up my dress robes today, but they weren't ready when I first went in. By the time they were, and I had tried them on, Harry said to just leave them.”
“Well, you look very nice, Ron dear,” Molly said proudly, passing the basket of bread to Bill, “Doesn't he, Hermione?”
Hermione fumbled with her fork, nearly dropping it. “Hm? Oh! Oh, yes. Very nice.” She spluttered, purposefully ignoring the sly looks from several members of the family.
Ron seemed blissfully ignorant of her plight, eating with gusto, yet with his mouth mercifully shut as he chewed. Although right now, she might actually appreciate a breach of manners, since the small sounds of satisfaction he was making were about to drive her round the twist. Hermione knew that there was a steady flow of conversation, because she saw Ron hastily swallow his food and respond several times, and she herself murmured something appropriate sounding at the right moments. She also knew that she managed to eat, somehow, because at one point, Ron’s eyes widened as he watched her lick a small blob of frosting from the corner of her mouth. But for the life of her, she couldn't remember what was said, or how any of the food made its way onto her plate. All she knew was that suddenly, everyone was pushing back their chairs and standing up, and she was still sitting there like a sack of potatoes.
“If you keep looking at him like that, you're going to scorch a hole right through his new robes,” George muttered in her ear, smirking faintly.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said with a sniff, mortified at being caught.
George took the empty bowl that had held the mashed potatoes she had picked up to carry inside. “Save it. You take Ron for walkies down by the pond to get it out of your system, and I’ll distract the others.”
She considered arguing with him, but the offer was too good to pass up. As George began to recount an embarrassing story about Charlie helping at the shop, she sidled up to Ron.
”Would you like to take a walk?” She asked quietly, with a lift of her eyebrows.
Ron blinked around at his family, but seemed to sense that it was in his best interest to go along with her. Besides, she was wearing that little skirt that clung to her arse and flipped just right when she walked. “Sure. You were so quiet at dinner, I was starting to worry. I even splashed some gravy on the table, but you didn't even notice.”
Although she knew he was teasing, she did a quick check to make sure that none had landed on his robes. But they were still as immaculate as when he had arrived, so she didn't care two figs about the fate of the tablecloth. Taking his hand, they wandered off towards the pond, both happy to finally be spending some time together after this past week, which had been busy for them both.
“Were you able to find out what day you're to report for training?” She asked, deciding that she needed to snap out of it and show more interest than she had thus far tonight.
Ron looked down at her strangely. “Yeeeeaah, I said as much earlier, remember? September first. They don't send a train for you, which is disappointing; Hogwarts sort of raises your expectations for things like that.”
“I’m sorry, I've just been rather.....distracted.”
She did feel bad, really; today was special for Ron, and he deserved to have his achievements made over. He had done so for her when the results of her N.E.W.T.s came in, and she had determined, when they had finally gotten together, to be more vocal about her support and admiration.
“I noticed. Is something wrong, or are you just fretting over your job?” He asked, raising his free hand to loosen his tie.
“Don't!” She nearly shouted, pushing his hand away before he could do any damage.
His expression was one of complete befuddlement. “Don't what? I was just loosening my tie; you know how I hate feeling all stiff in these things.”
“I know, but y-you look really good the way it is,” she said, blushing profusely.
Ron’s confusion grew, but then, realization burst through, like the sun parting clouds. “So that’s what’s been distracting you?” He snickered, “And here I was, afraid that I looked like a complete tit!”
They had reached the pond, and Hermione glared at him as he preened. “I just happen to think you look nice, alright?”
Turning her to face him, he leaned in for a kiss, whispering before their lips met, “You’re mental, but it’s a good mental.”
The kiss was meant to be short, but the fire that had been kindling in her stomach burst into flame, and when he made to move away, she reached for his tie and yanked him back. His shocked intake of breath was swallowed as she kissed him forcefully, her fingers tightening around the slick, black material of his tie. He moaned appreciatively, bringing his hands around to her shoulder blades to pull her closer. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp that secured his robes, pushing it off his shoulders when it finally came undone. She scrabbled with the slick, tiny buttons of his dress shirt, before finally giving a deft yank, which tore fabric and sent buttons flying. Ron yelped into her mouth, but she didn't relent; instead, she merely scraped her nails down his chest, parting his shirt to expose more skin.
Ron darted his tongue into her mouth, realizing that he was to have no control whatsoever, but determined to at least participate. Enthusiastically. It was a pity about his shirt, but at least--no, there went the button on the trousers, too, and the zip had never stood a chance. It was at about this point that he strongly suspected he was being ravished. It was a term you heard tossed about, but one he had never before experienced. It was almost enough to convince him to straighten his tie every time from now on, but he didn't think his wardrobe would survive.
One hand dipped into his trousers, wrapping around the bulge in his pants. A few strokes had his hips thrusting into her hand, his stomach quivering as she trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down the length of his torso. Although his limbs were heavily freckled, they were less numerous from his chest to upper thighs, scattered like cinnamon constellations across his milky skin. With slightly more care than she had shown thus far, she tugged his boxers down, nipping at his thighs. She smirked to herself as she felt his fingers tangling in her hair, the digits desperately flexing, but never forcing. She took him in hand, starting off with firm, even strokes, not bothering with the light, teasing touches, as was her want. Turning her head, she placed her mouth over his sack, sucking and licking over the delicate, smooth skin.
“Bloody fuckin’......so damn hot.....’ermione!” Ron growled out, head lolling to the side as he fought to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss anything.
Short, blunt nails prickled her scalp, but she barely felt it as she proceeded to move her hand faster, feeling the muscles of his thighs tighten with each thrust into her palm. A torrent of swearing flowed from his lips, interspersed with pleadings for more. And while she was happy to oblige, it wasn't enough; her own need had grown beyond her control. Leaning back, she grabbed his wrist, tripping him enough for him to fall to his knees. With a rough shove, she had him splayed out on his back, his trousers and pants tangled around his ankles. He looked up at her dizzily, trying to grasp what was going on.
“What are you....fuck!”
Not bothering to enlighten him, she had reached under her skirt to pull her knickers down, letting the soaked material slide past her knees and down her calves, kicking them off to the side. Normally, Ron would have been more than happy to do his part to get her ready, but today, that was unnecessary. She was already painfully wet, and the sight of him lying there, his earlier perfection torn and dishevelled because of her, was more than she could bear. He had raised himself to his elbows, but she pushed him back, lowering herself onto him, both of them gasping as he slid into her. She rocked slowly once or twice to adjust, and then began to move faster, grinding into him with each downward movement.
When she started to swivel her hips in tight, circular patterns, his eyes rolled back into his head, her name barely recognizable in his cries. His feet were braced against the ground, allowing him to thrust up into her, while his hands gripped her hips hard enough that she knew she would have bruises later. She wasn't the only one; already, large, dark circles had formed where her mouth had been on his chest and stomach, but she didn't think he would mind.
At the moment, Ron was very far from minding anything at all; the only thing he was aware of was the hot, slick heat of his girlfriend pulsating around him, and the high, sharp cries she emitted as she rode him at the angle that would ensure he hit the perfect spot inside her. For once, she felt herself about to reach completion before Ron. To spur him on, she brought one hand up to his chest, and scraped lightly over his nipple, which she knew to be extremely sensitive. His head snapped back with a roar, and her vision melted into bright, blurry colors as she allowed herself to fall over the edge.
Her body slumped over his, both of them limp and spent, their chests heaving as their breathing started to slow. Lazily, Ron pushed her hair off of her face and neck, both areas feeling gloriously cooler. They lay there, both knowing they would have to move soon, but not yet prepared to test the solidity of their knees.
“Hermione?” Ron croaked, eyes staring straight up at the darkening sky.
“Hm?”
“I don't think my dress robes are going to be able to pass inspection now.”
She wheezed with tired laughter, her head bouncing up and down with his chest as he joined her. As torn and stained as the robes were, he was probably going to have to end up buying a new set. It was only fair that she be the one to pay for them, since she had been the one to ruin these. Of course, this meant that they were going to have to be modeled for her approval......
Just how big were the fitting rooms at Madam Malkin’s, anyway?
Words: 3539
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione discovers the only thing better than perfection is messing it up.
The final fic, with smut to wrap the reunion. This has been a blast to write for, and I hope we do another one soon!
“You know, if you keep wearing that expression, Ron’s going to think you're mad at him again,” Ginny remarked, looking over her shoulder as she straightened the Congratulations! banner for Ron.
Hermione brought herself out of her thoughts with a jerk. “Sorry! It’s just that I put in my application at the Ministry, and I’m worried about getting accepted. And I seriously doubt that Ron would take my expression personally, anyway.”
Ginny hopped off of the stool with a snort. “First of all, you have nothing to worry about. Every department has been shitting their robes, hoping they’d wind up with you. Dad said so himself.” At Hermione’s disbelieving look, she amended, “Well, not in those exact words, but you get the idea. Secondly, yes, he would, or do you not remember a few months back when he thought you wanted to break up, when you were all in a lather over your N.E.W.T.s?”
Now that Ginny mentioned it, she did remember. Ron had met up with her for a day in Hogsmeade, and she had spent the entire time sighing, fretting, and scowling. She hadn't heard a word he had said, and hadn't mentioned what was bothering her. It had given poor Ron the impression that she was tired of him, but didn't know how to break it off. Apparently, he had pouted for several days, until Harry had grown frustrated and written her.
“I remember. Harry told me he had nearly decimated the entire Chocolate Frog population, trying to drown his sorrows. But today is about Ron, so I’ll just put off worrying, for now.”
“Good. Mum made enough food to feed an army, but not enough for Ron’s stress eating.”
Hermione giggled, smoothing out her flowered skirt over her knees. For some reason, it was one of Ron’s favorites, although he had never said why. But today was a special occasion, so she decided to humor him. And she was proud of him, really. After a year of helping George get back on his feet, he had finally followed his dream of becoming an Auror, and had been accepted last week. He had met with his instructor today, and had gone to pick up everything he would need for training. Harry, who had joined at the beginning of summer, had met up with him in Hogsmeade to help him pick everything out. He was in charge of getting Ron to the Burrow, for his surprise dinner.
A glance at the clock told her that the others should be arriving shortly; Percy and Arthur would be coming straight from work, while Bill would stop by the cottage to help Fleur with the baby. Charlie was at the shop with George, where he was staying so as not to spoil the surprise of his visit. Molly had been cooking all day, with reluctant help from Ginny, and willing ( but not exactly stellar) help from Hermione. There was fried chicken and garlicky mashed potatoes, boats of thick brown gravy, and parsnips. There were peas glistening with butter, and fresh, crusty bread. For dessert, there was a huge chocolate cake covered in a thick layer of frosting, apple tarts, and a lemon pie. Hermione knew he would most likely have second helpings of everything, and was privately afraid he would founder.
A flare of light from the fireplace announced the arrival of Arthur and Percy, the pair of them carrying on an animated discussion about the ineffectiveness of the regulations Arthur was dealing with on his latest case.
“Arthur, is that you? Oh good, Percy, too! I need you to start setting up the table and chairs outside,” Molly called, popping her head into the doorway.
“We’ll be right out, dear. Just as soon as we put away our briefcases.”
“Hello, Hermione! I saw you in the Ministry today; have you heard back on your applications yet?” Percy asked, setting his briefcase on the desk.
“No, but they said I should hear something within a week, so I’m not too worried, yet.”
He smiled, and patted her shoulder as he followed his father out the room. “No need to worry; you got excellent marks, and your references are impeccable. I’m sure you won't have any problems at all.”
Hermione appreciated his encouragement. Percy had been making more of an effort to be more personable, and it made his work related ramblings much easier to stomach. It was also nice to see him getting along better with Arthur; they had worked hard to heal the breach he had created, and he had been a help to Molly this past year, as well. While they were healing, Hermione knew that Fred’s death had impacted them deeply. Both of them had greyed significantly, and there were moments that the pain in their eyes overcame them.
“Bill, everything we need ees in ze bag; we’re only going to be here a few hours, not months,” Fleur admonished her husband, as she stepped briskly out of the fireplace, a small bundle in her arms. Bill followed, with a bag nearly six times the size of his infant daughter.
“I just want to make sure she’s comfortable!”
Fleur exchanged an amused smile with Hermione, rolling her eyes. Ginny crossed the room quickly, reaching for her niece.
“Pass her over, before Mum gets her hands on her!”
“Here she ees; I changed her right before we left, so you should ‘ave a good ten minutes of dry time.”
Ginny cradled the baby, making faces down at her. “Then in ten minutes, Mum can have her,” she quipped.
“Are we the last ones to get here? I tried to leave early, but things take longer with a baby,” Bill asked, looking around for the rest of his family.
“Not as long as you make them,” Fleur muttered under her breath, thinking that her husband was much more of a mother hen than a big, bad wolf.
“They’re already outside,” Hermione said, “Molly thought it would be too crowded in here.”
There was a loud rumble, and George and Charlie rolled out of the fireplace, landing at their feet. Their hair was mussed, and they were covered in Floo powder.They lay there, stunned, blinking slowly.
“The exploding Floo powder needs some work,” George noted, heaving himself to his feet and brushing off his robes.
Charlie, used to dealing with dragons, had been more surprised than anything. “Your choice of test subject could use some work, too. Next time you want to blow yourself up, feel free not to include me.”
Bill was more practical. “If Mum sees you like this, you won't have to worry about being blown up. I think you'd better run upstairs for a wash, before you join the rest of us out back.”
As everyone began to sort themselves out, Hermione used her wand to clean up the mess left behind on the carpet, before she went to help carry out the food. Since it was still August, the weather was still warm, but there was a nice breeze tonight to make it bearable. Molly directed everyone, while Fleur set out the plates and silverware, and Hermione placed the various bowls and platters down the center of the table. Ginny was still playing with the baby, although Molly kept glancing over, sure to swoop in when she had a spare moment. George and Charlie joined everyone eventually, slightly damp from a water fight and laughing at their lucky timing, since they didn't have to help with anything.
Everyone seemed to be relaxed and in a good mood, but Hermione couldn't help sneaking glances at her watch. Shouldn't they be there by now? Or had Harry gotten sucked into drooling over Quidditch gear, and completely forgotten that he had a job to do? Ron could be excused, since he had no idea about what was going on, but if they were much later, then Harry was going to have deal with a trio of irate women.
The sound of the back door creaking open drew everyone’s attention, and they all turned, watching as Harry stepped out, with Ron a few steps behind him. He was in the middle of saying something to Harry when he stopped, catching sight of all of them; as his family erupted in a chorus of congratulations, he froze, his jaw hanging open. His face turned a brilliant shade of red when he realized what was going on, and an embarrassed grin crept onto his face as first his mother, and then his siblings came over to hug them.
If any of them noticed Hermione hanging back, they would have assumed that she was just being polite, and letting them go first. That thought, however, had never even entered her mind. It was simply that she was rooted to the spot, unable to move. She had known that he would be needing regulation dress robes, but she hadn't expected him to be wearing them. But there he was, in superbly tailored dark grey robes, that somehow made him look more muscular than she knew him to be. And, what’s more, everything was straight and buttoned, his tie hanging perfectly, something that Hermione wasn't sure she had ever seen before. His new boots gleamed in the late afternoon light, and his hair, while still slightly long, had been brushed until it shone.
Her knees were weak, and she told herself not to be ridiculous as she clutched the back of a chair for support. It wasn't as if she had never seen him in dress robes before! Although.......there had always been something relaxed about them before; his tie partially undone, his collar unbuttoned. Or his hair sticking up in front, where he ran his fingers through. She had never seen him so......crisp. It was having an odd effect on her, and she hoped no one would notice.
Everyone was talking at once, and somehow, she ended up being seated directly across from him. He smiled at her, and started to say something, but was interrupted my Charlie asking him why he was all dressed up. Ron paused in the middle of loading a pile of chicken onto his plate, and looked down at himself in surprise.
“I had to pick up my dress robes today, but they weren't ready when I first went in. By the time they were, and I had tried them on, Harry said to just leave them.”
“Well, you look very nice, Ron dear,” Molly said proudly, passing the basket of bread to Bill, “Doesn't he, Hermione?”
Hermione fumbled with her fork, nearly dropping it. “Hm? Oh! Oh, yes. Very nice.” She spluttered, purposefully ignoring the sly looks from several members of the family.
Ron seemed blissfully ignorant of her plight, eating with gusto, yet with his mouth mercifully shut as he chewed. Although right now, she might actually appreciate a breach of manners, since the small sounds of satisfaction he was making were about to drive her round the twist. Hermione knew that there was a steady flow of conversation, because she saw Ron hastily swallow his food and respond several times, and she herself murmured something appropriate sounding at the right moments. She also knew that she managed to eat, somehow, because at one point, Ron’s eyes widened as he watched her lick a small blob of frosting from the corner of her mouth. But for the life of her, she couldn't remember what was said, or how any of the food made its way onto her plate. All she knew was that suddenly, everyone was pushing back their chairs and standing up, and she was still sitting there like a sack of potatoes.
“If you keep looking at him like that, you're going to scorch a hole right through his new robes,” George muttered in her ear, smirking faintly.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” she said with a sniff, mortified at being caught.
George took the empty bowl that had held the mashed potatoes she had picked up to carry inside. “Save it. You take Ron for walkies down by the pond to get it out of your system, and I’ll distract the others.”
She considered arguing with him, but the offer was too good to pass up. As George began to recount an embarrassing story about Charlie helping at the shop, she sidled up to Ron.
”Would you like to take a walk?” She asked quietly, with a lift of her eyebrows.
Ron blinked around at his family, but seemed to sense that it was in his best interest to go along with her. Besides, she was wearing that little skirt that clung to her arse and flipped just right when she walked. “Sure. You were so quiet at dinner, I was starting to worry. I even splashed some gravy on the table, but you didn't even notice.”
Although she knew he was teasing, she did a quick check to make sure that none had landed on his robes. But they were still as immaculate as when he had arrived, so she didn't care two figs about the fate of the tablecloth. Taking his hand, they wandered off towards the pond, both happy to finally be spending some time together after this past week, which had been busy for them both.
“Were you able to find out what day you're to report for training?” She asked, deciding that she needed to snap out of it and show more interest than she had thus far tonight.
Ron looked down at her strangely. “Yeeeeaah, I said as much earlier, remember? September first. They don't send a train for you, which is disappointing; Hogwarts sort of raises your expectations for things like that.”
“I’m sorry, I've just been rather.....distracted.”
She did feel bad, really; today was special for Ron, and he deserved to have his achievements made over. He had done so for her when the results of her N.E.W.T.s came in, and she had determined, when they had finally gotten together, to be more vocal about her support and admiration.
“I noticed. Is something wrong, or are you just fretting over your job?” He asked, raising his free hand to loosen his tie.
“Don't!” She nearly shouted, pushing his hand away before he could do any damage.
His expression was one of complete befuddlement. “Don't what? I was just loosening my tie; you know how I hate feeling all stiff in these things.”
“I know, but y-you look really good the way it is,” she said, blushing profusely.
Ron’s confusion grew, but then, realization burst through, like the sun parting clouds. “So that’s what’s been distracting you?” He snickered, “And here I was, afraid that I looked like a complete tit!”
They had reached the pond, and Hermione glared at him as he preened. “I just happen to think you look nice, alright?”
Turning her to face him, he leaned in for a kiss, whispering before their lips met, “You’re mental, but it’s a good mental.”
The kiss was meant to be short, but the fire that had been kindling in her stomach burst into flame, and when he made to move away, she reached for his tie and yanked him back. His shocked intake of breath was swallowed as she kissed him forcefully, her fingers tightening around the slick, black material of his tie. He moaned appreciatively, bringing his hands around to her shoulder blades to pull her closer. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp that secured his robes, pushing it off his shoulders when it finally came undone. She scrabbled with the slick, tiny buttons of his dress shirt, before finally giving a deft yank, which tore fabric and sent buttons flying. Ron yelped into her mouth, but she didn't relent; instead, she merely scraped her nails down his chest, parting his shirt to expose more skin.
Ron darted his tongue into her mouth, realizing that he was to have no control whatsoever, but determined to at least participate. Enthusiastically. It was a pity about his shirt, but at least--no, there went the button on the trousers, too, and the zip had never stood a chance. It was at about this point that he strongly suspected he was being ravished. It was a term you heard tossed about, but one he had never before experienced. It was almost enough to convince him to straighten his tie every time from now on, but he didn't think his wardrobe would survive.
One hand dipped into his trousers, wrapping around the bulge in his pants. A few strokes had his hips thrusting into her hand, his stomach quivering as she trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down the length of his torso. Although his limbs were heavily freckled, they were less numerous from his chest to upper thighs, scattered like cinnamon constellations across his milky skin. With slightly more care than she had shown thus far, she tugged his boxers down, nipping at his thighs. She smirked to herself as she felt his fingers tangling in her hair, the digits desperately flexing, but never forcing. She took him in hand, starting off with firm, even strokes, not bothering with the light, teasing touches, as was her want. Turning her head, she placed her mouth over his sack, sucking and licking over the delicate, smooth skin.
“Bloody fuckin’......so damn hot.....’ermione!” Ron growled out, head lolling to the side as he fought to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss anything.
Short, blunt nails prickled her scalp, but she barely felt it as she proceeded to move her hand faster, feeling the muscles of his thighs tighten with each thrust into her palm. A torrent of swearing flowed from his lips, interspersed with pleadings for more. And while she was happy to oblige, it wasn't enough; her own need had grown beyond her control. Leaning back, she grabbed his wrist, tripping him enough for him to fall to his knees. With a rough shove, she had him splayed out on his back, his trousers and pants tangled around his ankles. He looked up at her dizzily, trying to grasp what was going on.
“What are you....fuck!”
Not bothering to enlighten him, she had reached under her skirt to pull her knickers down, letting the soaked material slide past her knees and down her calves, kicking them off to the side. Normally, Ron would have been more than happy to do his part to get her ready, but today, that was unnecessary. She was already painfully wet, and the sight of him lying there, his earlier perfection torn and dishevelled because of her, was more than she could bear. He had raised himself to his elbows, but she pushed him back, lowering herself onto him, both of them gasping as he slid into her. She rocked slowly once or twice to adjust, and then began to move faster, grinding into him with each downward movement.
When she started to swivel her hips in tight, circular patterns, his eyes rolled back into his head, her name barely recognizable in his cries. His feet were braced against the ground, allowing him to thrust up into her, while his hands gripped her hips hard enough that she knew she would have bruises later. She wasn't the only one; already, large, dark circles had formed where her mouth had been on his chest and stomach, but she didn't think he would mind.
At the moment, Ron was very far from minding anything at all; the only thing he was aware of was the hot, slick heat of his girlfriend pulsating around him, and the high, sharp cries she emitted as she rode him at the angle that would ensure he hit the perfect spot inside her. For once, she felt herself about to reach completion before Ron. To spur him on, she brought one hand up to his chest, and scraped lightly over his nipple, which she knew to be extremely sensitive. His head snapped back with a roar, and her vision melted into bright, blurry colors as she allowed herself to fall over the edge.
Her body slumped over his, both of them limp and spent, their chests heaving as their breathing started to slow. Lazily, Ron pushed her hair off of her face and neck, both areas feeling gloriously cooler. They lay there, both knowing they would have to move soon, but not yet prepared to test the solidity of their knees.
“Hermione?” Ron croaked, eyes staring straight up at the darkening sky.
“Hm?”
“I don't think my dress robes are going to be able to pass inspection now.”
She wheezed with tired laughter, her head bouncing up and down with his chest as he joined her. As torn and stained as the robes were, he was probably going to have to end up buying a new set. It was only fair that she be the one to pay for them, since she had been the one to ruin these. Of course, this meant that they were going to have to be modeled for her approval......
Just how big were the fitting rooms at Madam Malkin’s, anyway?