I really want to stop, but it won't leave me alone. Ron x Hermoine, T to be safe. Review, porfavorrrr? :D 3

"I can felt," she sighed, keeping her hand griping at the basket filled with bruised fruits, her hand slightly reddened, and I knew instantly that she was gripping too hard, "I have felt the sharp points of a rose before. That pain was delicious, even when you know the pain is there…" "You know the pain is there," she started again, "but you think, 'it's a rose, it can't hurt you,' then it hurts less, but then the pain comes back again, and you think, 'this can hurt you, but the pain is beautiful' and then you realize you're gripping onto the rose too hard, and then you let go, hoping the rose will wilt."

I was confused, "Hermoine… What do you mean?"

She grinned devilishly, "Us, Ronald." I picked up another bruised apple. The orchid was almost bare now, just a few small strawberries and apples far to bruised to touch. She inhaled, then continued, "We love each other, so much. Yet, when I cherish you, pain is so great, because I know it hurts you. I know I'm gripping too tight, but it's painful - for the both of us. So I let go, because I'm bleeding and you are hurting on the inside, but you don't want me to know. I still think it's delicious, though."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, even though I know perfectly well. I had an affair with Ginny. She is my sister, yes, and I love her, but Hermoine knows I don't love Ginny like I love her.

But it does hurt, to make love to Hermoine, and hold her, but I will. I won't let Hermoine know that its painful to love the person I love the most.

"You know what I'm talking about," Her hand, which was slightly more relaxed five seconds ago, reddened once more. I pressed my cool glove onto her slightly blue fingers. She dropped the basket, and a few bruised apples tumbled out, and she pushed me against an orchid, kissing me softly. London's winter snow was light, and her cold fingers froze my cheeks. Smiling against my lips she whispered, "but quite frankly, I don't give a shit."

We walked on, and she left the basket. They were bruised and disgusting anyways, she said. I took her hand and placed it in the pocket on my jeans, and her cheeks turned a vibrant pink. She whispered, "Such a small sign of affection has gotten me completely stunned."

I picked up a rose on the walk to our car and gave it to her. She rolled her eyes, "Love, have you not been listening?" She took the rose, then threw it behind us.

It was painful now: her hand in my pocket, and her head on my shoulder, but I still put my arm around her, and when she got into the driver's seat, and I in the passenger, she shivered as her hand slid out of my pocket.

The car started, but she didn't move the wheels, she learned over to me, and kissed me once more. She slid her tongue into my mouth, and I didn't find the strength to resist. We kissed for one or two minutes, then she started the car. I began getting out of my car when we arrived at my flat. I was about to shut the door silently, when Hermoine smiled, "I love you."

I grinned, "I love you too."

"I love you more."

"Shut up." I grinned.

Fin.