Hermione has decided it is time to do the 'dirty' with Ron. She studies, she plans, she even primps, but when it comes down to it, who can be ready? Rated M for future smut, R/HR

For The First Time

Hermione's best approach to every subject of concern or interest was to study it. Graduation from Hogwarts had in no way changed that, which is why our story finds her curled up on her bed, studying. As has been the case many times before, her hair is a poofy mess, restrained only by a half-hearted bun and her aura is a determined one: she is on a mission. Only this time, her literature is a little bit different. She is sitting in her bedroom, door locked against her newly re-settled parents in the kitchen. On her bed are a whole slew of romance novels turned to the raunchiest parts and a notebook. Hermione, on this fine day in the middle of the winter, is studying sex.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Brushing an annoying bit of her hair free of her face, Hermione leafed through a particularly smutty tidbit in the closest soft-cover. Did people really even do that? she mused. She made a neat note of it before moving on. She'd been on this particular study mission for a day now, readily devouring all things sex: the mechanics, the emotional, the physical, the tricks, the outcomes. Of course, like any girl of eighteen she knew the basics-it was hard not to live in a dormitory and get a relatively clear picture. But now, considering intercourse as her next relationship step, she felt the need to be extremely well versed. She also believed it was helping quell her nerves.

This aforementioned relationship, of course, was with non other that Ronald Weasley. After a few off kilter and slightly awkward dates, the two had figured out what being an actual couple was about, and headed into the cool autumn months breaking away from Harry and friends to kiss feverishly in dark corners and on lumpy couches. They had also started spending long amounts of alone time together that did not consist of saliva exchange, and had managed to reduce their ratio of bickering to actually talking.

It had been Tuesday night that had started Hermione thinking about sex. She was attending a dinner party at the Weasley's abode which had ended in a friendly battle between Fleur and Mrs. Weasley about who would do the dishes while George exploded something foul under Percy's seat. At this point, Teddy Lupin had launched himself from the table and taken four running steps before faceplanting in the carpet and bursting into tears. Ron, being the closest to this minor catastrophe had risen from his chair before crouching awkwardly (he had very long limbs) next to the screaming Teddy. Before Hermione could detangle herself from the tightly packed chairs at the table, Ron had scooped Teddy up and was standing at full hight with the miraculously cured and giggling pink-haired baby.

And in that moment, that shining moment, Hermione was struck with the sudden need to get in his pants. Some crazy feminine yearning kicked in seeing him with a baby, his shirt riding up over his hips, his characteristic lopsided grin plastered on his face. No, she did not want kids yet. No way. But just the idea that he could have them...with her...and that he'd be a great father in the long run...

She must have had a stupid look on her face, because at that moment Ron had looked away from Teddy and right at her, eyebrow quirking up immediately and eyes holding a question.

Later the same night, in the crisp chill on the back porch, Hermione announced her interest in intimate coupling. Ron, sitting next to her on the porch swing chocked on his healthy helping of cherry pie, turned a fascinating shade of red around the ears, and gasped out a "Blimey, 'Ermione!"

For a moment he stared at her as if he'd never seen anything quite like her, and then his face broke into a disbelieving grin.

"Meet you in my room in five minutes."

Hermione laughed, the tension she hadn't realized was even there breaking.

"Not now, you twat. But, soon."

And so that was how she had ended up closed in her room, studying romantic fiction, suddenly faced with the realization that she didn't really know what she was doing. They were supposed to meet just here, in this very bed in 24 hours when her parents went back to Australia to settle their scores. Hermione thumbed through her notebook and felt her first shiver of fear-what was she doing?

Please read and review! More very soon, I'm on a writing role. :)