Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the lovely storyline created by these two. The characters, the world, and even the perfection are all property of JKR.

A/N: I wrote this awhile back and for some reason today seemed like a good time to post it. This is a two-shot that takes place after the sky battle and then after the Battle at Hogwarts. I know this has been done a lot, at least the bit after the Battle at Hogwarts, but this is my take on the entire situation. As much as we'd all like to think they got to shagging right away I think we all know deep down that's not the case. Still, there's beauty in different kinds of intimacy and that's what I tried to play to with this story.

**I will post the next chapter to "I'll Be Waiting" when I get around to it. Responses to that story have been a bit controversial therefore I've been a bit apprehensive with posting. Nevertheless, expect an update soon.

There were still flashes of light appearing in the night sky but at this point they belonged to stars and planes flying overhead. The Burrow was quiet, almost silent, but not quite, as such a place was never without noise. Ron paced back and forth, listening to his parents speak in hushed tones downstairs. On his bed, Hermione sat. She didn't move, but instead played with her hands in her lap, picking at the skin around her fingernails.

"Ron, please stop pacing." Her voice didn't waver. She seemed irritated and Ron could guess that his actions were annoying her, but he did nothing to stop them. They were all incredibly on edge. He needed to move, to run, to get out of here. Instead, he paced, letting his feet scrape at the old floorboards as he walked.

"I'm sorry." His feet continued to move back and forth along the span of eleven pieces of wood. Looking at her, her eyes glossed over and her body shivering, he suddenly felt bad. He remembered the look on her face when he first appeared in the front yard. He saw how her frown of doubt turned itself into a smile as she ran at him, feeling Harry's small body soon turn into his much better broad frame. Everything about the moment was perfect. Then, it was gone. Others arrived and Harry began questioning them both about their travels, assuring himself and the rest of the Order of their safety. Hermione and Ron both nodded, then quickly retreated upstairs, to avoid the stares and sighs that would only accompany the rest of the night.

Ron gave up. His feet brought him to the edge of the bed where he plopped down, causing the mattress and all of its contents, including Hermione, to be displaced. She moved closer to him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "We're all okay," she whispered. Ron grabbed her hand, holding it in his own as he stared at how perfectly it laid in his palm, even flat with fingers spread. Not thinking, for even thinking would cause the same pattern of action, he laced his fingers in between hers. Soon, they were holding hands with the sides of their still bodies brushing against one another.

"Yeah, we are, right?" He paused. "How was the Thestral?"

Hermione shook her head. "I wouldn't know. I couldn't see it. I was just floating, or so it felt like it. And then I was here and you weren't and I was so scared. They took Harry in to question him, to make sure it was really him and I was worried…"

"About Harry?"

"No...for you." The words left her lip and a weight was lifted from her shoulders as if she had been waiting to say those same words forever. Maybe she wasn't just talking about tonight but also about every other time when Ron, Harry, and her were in danger and all she could think about was her insecure ginger best friend and the way his smile was reassuring and how that frightened her more than she ever would like to admit. "I kept thinking what I would do if you didn't come back. I know the idea was to get Harry here but even Harry said it...there's more at stake." Ron looked at Hermione as if she had told him she didn't want to be his friend anymore. His face was blank, and for that he was unaware of the apparent slouch his body had taken on. The thing was that she hadn't said anything of the sort. What Hermione said was actually rather flattering. If Ron was being honest, it was the best news he could receive. She worried about him in the same way he worried about her.

"I-Hermione-"

This was it, she thought. "Yes, Ron?"

"I just...I was worried about you too." Both teenagers sighed. Ron, out of relief and Hermione sighed to rid herself of the pain from moment she was waiting on, especially as she continued to wait. "Tonks was making fun of me, but I kept wondering if you-you and Harry," he corrected, "would be okay."

"We're all okay." She was whispering again, repeating her sentence from before. It fell differently this time, not to assure him, but to remind him that her hand was still latched onto his, and her head was still fitted perfectly into the crook of his neck. He thought of Bellatrix and her force used over the portkey. He hated her for keeping him from the hug he would later receive from his best friend. Then, upon thinking about the label for Hermione, he felt ill. Harry was his best friend, and Hermione never would be. She was always more than that and he guessed she always would be.

Then, he thought of telling her how he felt and the thought of her being more than a friend evaporated. A pain in his chest thickened, making breathing hard. Hermione must have noticed for she grabbed the hand she held with her free hand and began rubbing at his knuckles. "You okay?"

He nodded, unable to speak. Then, he croaked a simple: "Yeah."

She nodded too, convincing herself of things he could not. "I should get out of these clothes."

Ron stood up, ridding himself of Harry's track jacket. "Me too." Then he muttered a short "sorry" before walking to the bathroom, leaving Hermione alone in his room.

She took it as permission to begin undressing. A sore shoulder that she had covered up all night now came into view as she winced her way out of Harry's cotton shirt. The burgundy material hit the floor leaving her in just his dark wash jeans and a cotton bra. It was lavender, with a bit of frilly lace along the cup lines. It made her feel like a little girl, especially as she stepped out of Harry's much too large trousers, folding them against her stomach before placing them on Ron's bed.

"Did you know that-" Ron left the bathroom, entering his bedroom with cause. He stopped as he saw Hermione, covering her pale body with both hands. There was nothing to cover. She was no different from he imagined her, so very perfect and thin always hidden beneath her modest wardrobe. Standing in front of him with her hair pulled back, he had swore he had seen this version of her before, perhaps in a dream he would never tell her about. Sure, she was insecure, her mouth agape as she doubled over, then sat down out of pure embarrassment. Ron just stood near the entrance to his bedroom, gawking at her beauty. "Sorry," he lied.

"Ron!" She screamed, or at least tried to. He expected other words to follow but nothing came. Instead, she looked at his own bare chest and the way his flannel pajama bottoms tightened right below the waist. She knew what it all meant but was unable to accept that she was the cause. Still, she couldn't redirect her eyes up to his. As she tried, she noticed that his were fixed elsewhere, first on her rounded bum, then to her chest. Realizing this, her hands flew from around her stomach to up and over her breasts. Her hands rested, hugging her shoulders. Now, Ron looked at her, both unsure of where to go next. "You're not wearing a shirt," she muttered. "I'm half-naked."

"Yeah, you are. Bloody hell."

"Ron!" She threw a shirt from the floor toward Ron. The material hit his chest then began to fall. Ron caught it, quickly slipping on the material over his head.

"Thanks, just what I needed."

"Did you know I was naked?"

"You're not naked! You're only…"

"What Ron? Say it." Her hands were on her hips now. She was bone thin, more than Ron remembered. He clearly hadn't felt how small she had become through the clothing of Harry's that she wore. Even when they briefly exchanged a hug in front of his parents earlier that evening, he wasn't aware of her size. Being that close to Hermione always gave him different opportunities, like to smell her hair, or feel her smooth skin against his cheek as she squeezed at the width of him.

"Beautiful," he stated. Nothing before had ever come so easily.

"Stop." She moved a lost strand of curly hair behind her ear. Looking down at the ground, then back to Ron made her stomach spin and twirl like a child throwing caution to the wind and dancing in the grass on a warm autumn day.

Ron fixed his shirt then stepped into Hermione. "I'm serious. You're so," he waited a beat and then settled on, "pretty." Then he walked to his dresser and grabbed a plain grey T-shirt from the bottom drawer. Moving to the drawer above, he grabbed a pair of boxers. He took both and brought them to Hermione, handing the clothing, his clothing, to her with shaky hands. His body was on fire being this close to her like this. "Here," he motioned toward the clothing.

Hermione swallowed, taking both articles from Ron's hands. He stepped back, still staring at the way her body was now covered in his favorite shirt. Next came the boxers, and his fantasy was over. It felt as if someone had introduced him to the Quidditch World Cup and then threw a curtain over the entire thing. She was there, and then she was gone, drowning in his clothing so flawlessly.

She couldn't shake the feeling that the way his eyes dropped were because he was embarrassed about seeing her like this. Had he wanted her to cover up? Was he not enjoying the tension, the shakes and the uncertainty just as much as she was? Did he not see the way she drank him in? Didn't he want to do the same thing to her?

Sitting back on his bed, Hermione forgot all of her questions and joined him. Instead of sitting, she did something that surprised herself, and kneeled, taking a different position behind Ron. "Relax," she whispered. "I'm just going to give you a massage."

Ron looked over his shoulder at her. She had taken her hair down and it rested gently past her breasts. "A massage?"

"Yeah, silly. You're tense. That's okay right?" Ron just nodded, and so Hermione began. She started the way all massages started, kneading at the broadness of his shoulders with each hand on a shoulder. Then she payed special attention to his left shoulder where she had seen a purple and blue bruise make itself known. She kissed his shoulder through the cotton of his shirt and was surprised to smell his cologne still lingering on the dirty shirt. Then, she muttered something, causing Ron's skin to tighten as the bruise danced its way off his shoulder.

"What did you-?"

"I've been practicing. For the hunt, I just figured I'd see if it worked...and it did."

"You're brilliant, you are."

"Where else do you hurt?"

Ron shook his head. He reached for the glass of water Hermione had brought him up from the kitchen earlier. Sipping at that, he was without words. Then, he had too much to say. "Everywhere." Hermione began to knead at his other shoulder with her elbow but was soon stopped by Ron. "No, I'm fine, 'Mione'," he breathed out.

"You just said…"

"I'm fine. You're here, okay? We're all okay," he repeated her words from earlier. Throughout the night the verbiage had picked up momentum and they were now dancing around the room from all the force. "And what about you?"

"Oh, I'm fine."

"Are you? You always say that, Hermione and I never believe you. I think Harry does because he has no other choice but sometimes I can't help but think you're not fine. You're not even close."

He turned around to smile at her but instead found himself full of guilt and shame. She was crying, her small body wracked with sobs as she sat on her legs and just cried. "You're right," she said, wiping away a few falling tears. "Who am I kidding?" She threw up her arms in surrender to try to laugh it all off.

Ron scooted up closer to her, turning so his body was now facing her. He had one leg on the bed while the other rested on the floor. "Hey, hey, 'Mione, I didn't mean to make you cry." Ron rubbed at her back, trying to calm his best friend down. It only caused her tears to fall more quickly.

"No, it's okay," Hermione said. "You're right. I guess I just haven't been able let go in a while. But I can, you know? With you," she added.

Ron nodded. Then he did something that even surprised him. Ron picked up Hermione and crawled them both up toward the headboard of his too-small bed. "You're even pretty when you cry," he said, kissing her nose. The contact made her shiver.

"Shut up," she threw her shoulder into his. Ron could only smile at seeing her like this. There was so much to be said for her being open with him and only him. She was positive she'd never break down in front of Harry like this and that was comforting. Ron wanted to be the only bloke to ever deserve Hermione like this because he knew he was the only person in the world who would ever appreciate it this much.

"Lay with me?" He didn't have to repeat his question as Hermione was already moving to settle into his bed. She had even gone as far to crawl underneath the covers, and then, she invited Ron underneath, pulling up the orange quilt so that he had room to slide underneath. He did, then, he pulled her close. The t-shirt she wore cinched at her waist as he wrapped his strong arms around her midsection.

"C'mere," he mumbled. She was pressed firmly into him, so much so that she could feel the tip of his erection rubbing at her tummy through the fabrics that so carelessly separated them. It made her smile it a way she was unsure of. It felt good, but she wanted more. Sadness soon overtook her features as she was reminded of where they were and how they had gotten there. Just moments ago she was vulnerable in front of him and even that was enough to send a tingly headache up through her spine to the crown of her head. That was too much to handle and this-this was untrodden territory.

She arched her back, throwing her hair over her shoulder. "We're all okay," she whispered for what seemed like the millionth time that night. She would say it a thousand more times if it meant he felt as safe as she did currently wrapped up in his arms. That, she would never admit. Not until other words were said, three words to be exact. Yet she was just as cowardly as he was, and she knew that to be most factual. She was old-fashioned and angry at herself for wanting him to say it first. Surely she had felt it just as long. What was it, five years now? Hermione had lost count, instead deciding that years didn't matter when it felt as if she had loved him her entire life.

"I love you."

"Wha?" Ron raised an eyebrow, his mouth still cocked up. "Whad'ya say?"

"I said I love you, Ron."

"Oh." He paused, tasting her words as she mumbled. And then, he returned the favor, repeating them back to her. "I love you, Hermione."

A silence settled over the room. It didn't need explanation and both were thankful something of the sort never came. Hermione didn't want him to call her a friend and Ron didn't want something similar, or even something worse, like her getting up and walking away. Still, he'd watch her go, her backside looking so perfect in his clothing. Ron just didn't want it to be his words to push her away.

"I mean that. What I said. You're important to me," he whispered. Hermione's fingertips idly played with the neckline of his shirt, scrunching the material into a ball with her tiny fist. She let go and pressed a steady palm to the side of Ron's prickly cheek. He hadn't shaved that morning and she noticed it when she first arrived at the Burrow. She didn't mind though. She imagined herself someday loving his stubble in their bed, a bad they'd both picked out and had enjoyed several times over before their children could wake up and run into their bedroom to wake them up. Suddenly her body was hot and she was doing everything in her power to bring herself back down to earth. She wasn't on that bed, but his. They weren't adults and they weren't married with kids. They were kids, running scared from a world they were still so unsure of. "I meant it too. You're the most important person in my life, Ron."

"You mean that? More than Harry? What about your parents?"

"I said it, didn't I?" Normally words like those would start a row but Hermione just looked into his eyes, her own orbs sparkling underneath the moonlight from above. "I mean it, Ron. And I know you did too. I want to be here with you right now."

"You're here. We're all…"

"Okay," she finished. Outside, the same lights flashed across the sky from before. They played out patterns and shapes both Ron and Hermione were unfamiliar to as both teens drifted in and out of slumber. They were content, and Hermione was safe, something Ron was proud to give to her. Downstairs, people still discussed tactics and those they lost, as well as those who were still with them. Ron was sure they would discuss Harry's bravery and the way he never wavered even in the face of danger. All he could think about, Hermione included, was the way that they were brave too. They had always been brave, even here, sleeping underneath the moonlight. Hermione's eyelashes fluttered against Ron's cheek. In one last breath before passing out, she whispered: "You're okay. I'm okay. We're both okay."

~!~

Leaving the showers, Ron slowly walked down the hall toward the boys dormitories. He wanted his bed, the old bed he used to sleep in that at one point he thought was uncomfortable. Even with its four posters and its red velvet drapes it was intimidating and now it was all he wanted. Showering was painful, only adding to the exhaustion his body was already feeling. The day was long, being molded and created from three days due to the lack of sleep him and his friends had received. In that moment he thought of Harry and Hermione. Harry was downstairs with Ginny, no doubt. Hermione, he was less sure of. What he wanted was for her to join him up here, but even that thought scared him. His parents would be up soon to check on him, maybe even to invite him down to the common room to sleep. Of course he'd deny their help. He was a man now, and he needed to do this alone.

The only help he'd accept would be from Hermione, wherever she was. She was his guiding light, his beam of hope in an otherwise dark world. Today the world was dark, and he was only confirmed of this as he walked into the boys dormitory, the same room he once called home. Ron muttered a simple "lumos" watching as his wand lit up, but only barely. His emotional drain showed even on the tip of his wand and in the way his spells dwindled throughout the day. Words were not enough. He needed time and sleep and care from those who were least likely to give it.

Soon, he was naked, allowing his towel to drop to the floor as he grabbed for his boxers from where he had placed them earlier on the edge of his bed. They slid on easily, even as Ron winced at the pain in his arms. It was like elastic being pulled and stretched to its maximum capacity. He was just waiting for his muscles to constrain so much so that his limbs fell off or more likely just stopped working altogether. Neither happened and the pain persisted.

The door to the dormitory opened. Ron noticed, but he didn't move. He grabbed for the t-shirt on his bed and stared at the grey cotton. It brought him back to an earlier time, to a time when the shirt was no longer his. At the same time, in those few moments, he remembered the way his t-shirt left Hermione swimming in fabric. She was beautiful then, making Ron agree that she was even more beautiful now. No amount of scars and cuts could make him love her less.

"Ron?" Hermione questioned. Her best friend turned to face her, his mouth agape. Her hair was wet just as his was. She was in a pair of grey sweat pants and a large white t-shirt that only he knew to belong to him. He wondered where she had gotten it from, then quickly forgot the question as he noticed how lovely she always looked in clothing that was his and not hers. "I'm sorry, I just...I can't be down there."

Ron nodded. She stepped into him, clearly not caring that he was just wearing a pair of boxers. Her arms immediately found his waist and wrapped themselves around him. She sighed into his shoulder, letting the hug comfort her as much as it was comforting him. "You smell good," he mumbled.

Hermione picked her head up. "What? You didn't like the burnt clothing, cinched rubber, bloody smell from before?"

Ron chuckled, the vibration matching the beating of his heart, both of which caused Hermione to smile, genuinely smile, for the first time that day since their kiss. "You always smell good." His tone suddenly became serious, which worried Hermione when she heard it. She softened up though, only after she saw that his change in attitude was for the better. He was trying to be sweet and failing, not because he didn't mean every word he said but because he was tired and feigning alertness.

"Let's sleep," Hermione suggesting, causing Ron's ears (among other things) to perk up. With her hands on his arms, she traced lazy circles around one of the many lashes he had on his biceps. "Does it hurt?"

"No more than your cuts do."

"Ron…" Hermione looked to the ground then back up. "I want to make you feel better, alright? This isn't a competition. I just-"

"And you think I don't want the same thing? I'm just saying we're all pretty messed up right now. I didn't do anymore than anyone else today."

Hermione looked to her toes again. She wished she was home or had somewhere along their journey had time to paint them that deep red color Ron commented on two summers ago. "You did to me," she whispered into herself.

Ron furrowed his brows. Using his thumb and forefinger, he lifted her chin. "'Mione, look at me. What did you say?"

"I said you did to me. I mean, you were amazing today, Ron. You never left my side and when Nagini-" She stopped, a cry choking her and keeping her from speaking. It burned the back of her throat as she tried to swallow it down.

It was Ron's turn to pull her into a hug. "'Mione, please don't cry, love." Her body leant into his as her feet threatened to give out from underneath her. Hermione didn't notice, nor would she have cared. She meant what she said; Ron was always there to protect her and put her back together. He may not realize it or acknowledge it the way she wanted him too, but her words were true. It didn't matter what he thought, Hermione knew she wouldn't be alive without everything he gave her today. She loved this boy and she knew he loved her back, but today it was about more than that.

"I'm sorry, it's just...I love you, Ron."

"I love you too, 'Mione."

"No, I...I love you. Everything you did for me today just made it okay. I knew it before but now I know I can't live without you and I'm okay with that," she whispered. All the while they were staring into each others eyes, searching for others truths they had yet to touch upon.

"'Mione, please don't tell me you're speaking out of fear. You're not going to lose me, I'm right here. The war's over with. We won. We're-"

"All okay?" Hermione looked up, searching Ron's baby blues for an answer. She needed more than his strong arms could provide.

Ron smiled down at her, then, he kissed her lips, chastely at first then deeper and deeper until they both pulled away needing air. "I love you too. For real. I can say that now and I don't know why but it's easy now. It's the easiest thing in the world. I love you, I love you, I love you," he said before seizing her lips in another fiery kiss.

"Maybe I am scared, you know? Maybe the thought of you being gone today made me realize all of this but I've known for a really long time what I've wanted Ron and what I wanted was you."

"Blimey, Hermione! Me too."

"Promise me you'll never leave again?" Her hands were now up behind his neck, clasped and playing with his wet hair. "I can't-I don't know if-"

"I'm not going anywhere, love. Not tonight, not tomorrow. I'm here, okay? I don't know how I can prove it to you now but if you give me time-"

Hermione cut him off, placing her soft finger to his lips while she nodded. "I know, Ron." She was crying now, which only intensified their snogging. She had waited for this, or moments like it, for quite some time, and now in the past minute or two they had kissed more than was enough. Still, she wanted more. She craved to have him show her how much he wanted her and she hoped it was just as much, if not more, than the amount she wanted him.

Pulling away, Hermione spoke once more: "Can I stay in here tonight?"

He didn't think. "Yes."

Hermione moved quickly. She scampered over to where his bed was and for a minute Ron was stuck on figuring out how she knew that it was his. He stopped questioning as she crawled on top of the covers and then, in the most sexy way possible, patted the bedspread next to where she now sat.

He joined her, reaching across the bed to thumb at her cheek as he once again tasted her lips. It reminded them of the war, but he assumed that would eventually disappear as new memories were created. Ron imagined tonight, whatever it was, to be one of them. Many others were sure to follow, Hermione thought.

"Ron?" He looked at her after they broke apart. She was smiling, but she looked unsure. Her face soon became flushed, the rosiness appearing up from within his t-shirt. "Do you trust me?"

"Always," he spoke in agreement, slowly nodding his head. He swallowed deep, as he waited for her to show him where she was going with this. He'd go anywhere as long as it meant she was by his side.

"Okay, good." Then, without thinking, she crossed her arms over her body and pulled the bottom of Ron's shirt up and over her head. She was left in just a bra and her grey sweats. Ron stared, noticing how this bra was a little more low cut than the one from nearly a year ago. It was also coral and plain. No lace or frills along the edges, just her milky breasts threatening to spill out over the confines of the cups. "Is this...is this okay?" Ron only nodded, which urged Hermione to arch her back and lift her bum so that she could also rid herself of the pajama bottoms she was wearing on her lower half. "What about this?", she questioned.

"More than perfect."

"I was...I was downstairs thinking about that night...do you remember?"

Looking up from her breasts, Ron's eyes latched onto Hermione's much darker ones. He nodded, causing her to laugh. "Yeah," he breathed out. His fascination with her body was something that would offend most girls but something about the way he gawked made Hermione feel loved. She knew he was just as inexperienced as he was and the thought left her feeling content, content but restless. Hermione longed to make that need disappear and she wanted and knew that it was Ron who would help her to make that possible. Not tonight, and maybe not for a while, but soon, she told herself.

"I should have told you then how I felt-"

"Hermione, please no regrets tonight, I-"

"Lemme finish, okay?" He nodded, and she continued. "I should have told you then how I felt but I didn't. I knew we were leaving the next day and I didn't know how much time we'd have to actually be a couple. And god, please believe me when I say that I couldn't call you mine and then lose you. And now I know you're mine and you're here and that's great. But I can't do this without you. So here we are, you know? And I'm ready to be yours because I want you to have me, whatever that means and I just...I just want you to know I wanted to try that night again. Now."

"Now?" Ron swallowed hard.

Hermione nodded. "Now."

Then, she got underneath the covers and just like that night eleven months ago, she invited him to join her, which he happily accepted. In doing so, she was pressed to him, skin on skin, as they reveled in each other. "You know, I always wanted to come up here." Ron stiffened in more ways that one which caused Hermione to giggle into her palm. "Sorry, I-"

Another finger was placed to his lips to silence him. "Shh, I like it."

"You...you like it?"

"Ronald, please don't make this anymore awkward than this already is for me, okay?"

"For you? How about I'm the one with a stiffy because I can't control myself around my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend," Hermione repeated in whispers. "Girlfriend," she said it again. "I love that, boyfriend," she teased. Ron just smiled, then pecked at her lips.

"Me too." The snog they shared grew quickly. Soon, Ron's fingers were in Hermione's hair while she pushed her midsection further into him. She remembered that night back in his bedroom and the way his erection tickled her tummy. She so desperately wanted that again. In due time, Hermione thought with a sly smile etching itself across her features. "Did my parents see you come up here?" He attacked her neck now, playing little minute kisses along her jaw then onto her collarbone. She smiled into the sensation, promising to herself that she'd never get enough of seeing him like this. Hermione just hoped that what he saw in return was enough for him to stay like this.

Hermione shook her head. " I don't know. I don't care," she said, biting her lip.

Ron lifted his head. "You don't? That night in my room you woke me up and left early because you didn't want them to-"

"I know but this is different. I love you, Ron. Bloody hell, I'm in love with you. They can watch for all I care." She snogged him good and proper, nibbling at his lower lip.

He wasn't quite there yet. Ron's mind still lingered on what she said. "First off, that's disgusting to think of my mother and father seeing any of this, second, bloody hell to my girlfriend, Hermione Granger saying 'bloody hell'...very sexy, Ms. Granger." His lips were back on her neck before either of them could speak again. As moments passed, they both settled into a rhythm of kissing and stroking skin that was only just unseen until a few minutes ago. It was new and exciting, in the way that pale skin and freckles could be. The closeness and the lack of clothing was driving them both mad, something signified by the tiny moan Hermione let escape her red lips as Ron marked her neck.

"What's this?", he pointed at her arm, then stopped suddenly realizing what it was he was asking. He knew the answer, but he also knew the pain that accompanied that specific mark. Forgetting all other things, he kissed the skin of her inner forearm, and from there left a trail leading back up to her lips. He kissed her lips again, leaving them both breathless. "Perfect, you are," he muttered.

He was off again, dropping kisses down onto her neck, then to her collarbone, then to her breastbone. He stopped after he realized his face was in between her breasts and she wasn't fussing. Then, he continued as if it was the easiest thing in the world. He left special kisses on the sides of her breasts, even going as far as to knead one with his hand while his other arm held him up so that he could easily hover above her. Next, a ladder of kisses was left in a zigzag pattern down her tummy toward her knickers. Those were coral too, a shade or two lighter than her bra. Ron wondered if Hermione always wore matching knicker sets. Soon his mind forgot about colors and lace and was transported as his lips drew nearer to the seam of her panties.

He half expected her to sit up or protest but neither came so he continued, kissing her over the lace of her knickers. Ron even went as far to nibble on her bundle of nerves through the crotch of her panties. He left the material wet as she moaned, arching her back off the bed. Up on the pillows, Hermione rolled her head back and forth. Her body was previously in pain, but now, hours after, she was in a state of euphoria, unable to process anything but happiness.

"Ron…"

He picked his head up. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No, just...be careful on my left leg will you? It's...it's sore."

He nodded, looking down to where Hermione had mentioned. Her skin was all types of purple and blue. Every shade of indigo played itself across her milky complexion, smooth as ever. Even the gash on her inner calf, spreading all the way across her knee down toward her ankle, was beautiful to him. Ron wasn't sure he was able to stop even if she had asked.

Continuing his ministrations, he placed a palm to her concave stomach as he traveled further south. He kissed up and down her right leg rather quickly, then, slowly began to pay attention to her left leg and the stories it told. Away from the laceration, he kissed circles, kneading her hairless skin, wondering when she ever had time to shave while they were away. Ron had so many questions, all of which made him feel like the little boy he wished he could be. But he wasn't little, nor was he a boy anymore. Today had forever sealed all of that.

As he neared her knee, he urged Hermione to bend her leg a bit to give him easier access to the inside of her calf. She obliged, wincing at the pain as she did so. "You okay, love?" Hermione only nodded, unable to speak through the pain. "I love you. You're so strong, you know that?" Another nod. "And so bloody beautiful," he said. Ron wanted to kiss her, but he knew it would ruin what he had in mind. "Hand me my wand, will you?"

Hermione didn't question it. She looked around and eventually spotted his wand on the bedside table he'd usually share with Harry. She grabbed the wood, feeling its weight in her hand, then handed the piece to Ron who was still near the foot of the bed, buried in between her legs. His large frame looked rather silly next to her small body. She loved it though, how they contrasted in every way possible. Even intimately, they were opposites, she thought.

"I don't know if…," Ron tried to manage a full sentence but his own insecurities stopped him.

"Ron, it's okay…," Hermione said, pressing a hand to his naked shoulder. He only smiled. Soon, his attention was redirected to her swollen leg. He muttered something and she winced, feeling as if something was pinching at her injured skin. Looking down, she saw the bruises begin to disappear. Not having to think about what was going on, she looked to Ron, her eyes wide in appreciation. "Brilliant, you are," she said, repeating his words from the night so many days ago. Her leg was no longer bruised, but the laceration remained, scabbed over.

"I don't know the spell for-"

Hermione smiled down at him. "Me neither. There's dittany in my bag, do you wanna-?"

Ron was already standing up and walking to find her bag. He assumed she had dropped it by the door when she had entered earlier. He was right; her beaded bag was right near the armoire closest to the door leading into the room. "Accio dittany," he said, causing the bottle of yellowish substance to pop out. He caught it, running back over to the bed to tend to her wounds. "How much?"

"Just open the bottle and drop a few drops on the cut, it'll start to close and then we can go from there."

Ron was holding Hermione's leg in one hand, and the bottle of dittany in the other. He lightly dropped her leg back onto the bedsheets, paying particular attention to the gash her skin held. "Does it hurt?"

"Like mad."

Ron opened the bottle of dittany and slowly pulled out the dropper, making sure his carelessness didn't get any of the oily substance onto his bed. He was successful. The first drop, then the next three were dropped into the cut. Hermione grabbed the pillow behind her head to stop herself from screaming as the pain intensified.

"'Mione, you okay?"

She nodded. "I'm fine." Then she had an idea, something she remembered from earlier in the year. She would talk through the pain, the way she wished Ron was able to back when he was splinched. "You remember when you were hurt after we apparated? I was so scared, your arm was so...so ruddied up and you were in so much pain...ahhh!", she cried out. As the pain subsided, she saw Ron's eyes looking up her. She guessed he had allowed more agony to play across his face than she had on her own features. He looked terrified, sick even. "But you were okay," she continued. "And I'm going to be okay."

"Because we're okay, right?"

"We're okay," she assured. "Now let me help you." Hermione moved as if she wasn't just previously in pain. Her leg was numb, but she didn't mind. She kissed Ron as they switched positions. He was beginning to relax, although the color still hadn't returned to his face. "Sit back," she instructed. "Where do you hurt? For real this time…," she warned, pointing to him as if she was teaching, or giving an instruction. Ron sat up straighter. "I don't hurt, I'm just tired. I'm fine with you here. I think I'll always be fine if you're here," he finished causing Hermione to blush.

"You don't have any cuts?"

"Just one of my back, if you wanted to-" But just like him, Hermione had already repositioned herself so she was kneeling behind her boyfriend. She grabbed the dittany from where he had left the almost empty bottle near the lamp on the bedside table. "Lean forward, it works better if the skin is taut."

"Taut?"

"Like tight…"

"I know what taut is, Hermione, I just don't understand why you have to be so technical in the bedroom."

"Darling, in a few weeks I'll show you just how technical I can be in the bedroom." Hermione wiggled her eyebrows causing a slightly stunned Ron to just chuckle. "Now lean forward, Ronald."

He obliged, sitting forward so that his arms were at length with his legs. "Ahh, fuck."

"Does that hurt?"

"A bit."

"What about now?"

"S'better."

Hermione nodded. As she applied the last drop from the bottle, she realized she had reached the end of his wound anyway. "All set," she whispered in his ear, nibbling at his lobe as she did so. Her small arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him back into her. Ron could feel her pert nipples brushing through the material of her bra to scrape at his back. He smiled through the sensation, thinking so creatively about what she had just said.

Unable to suppress it, Hermione yawned, using Ron's shoulder to cover the loud outflow of air. Ron laughed. "Is that all I am to you?"

"Shuddup, I'm tired!"

"Me too," he whispered, as if it was a secret. "Let's sleep." Ron stood up and fixed the covers. A chill blew in from the window he had opened before his shower, prompting him to jump into bed rather quickly. On the other side of the bed, Hermione was sitting with her back to him. She sat, slumped over with her arms outstretched at her sides for support. "You okay, love?"

"I just can't believe we're here, like this," she added.

"I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

"I know. It's just...it's hard to stomach sometimes. That we ever had it any other way. It's so surreal."

"I'm right here, love."

Hermione breathed in. "Right." Then she did something that surprised Ron. She reached around her back and unclasped her bra, letting the straps pool near her arm pits as she slowly pulled the coral material down off of her arms. It hit the floor silently and was soon followed by her light coral knickers. Ron was stunned, unable to take his eyes off of her bum.

"Wha?"

Hermione giggled, quickly getting underneath the covers. "I just want to be close to you tonight. We may not get another night like this for a while."

Ron nodded. He reached under the covers and rid himself of his boxers. The cotton material joined Hermione's bra and panties on the ground, all clumped together. Without thinking, Hermione nuzzled into Ron, both underneath the covers from neck to toe. She didn't care that her bare chest was now on his bare chest. He didn't care that his erection was now fully on her leg as they dozed off into oblivion. She was right, maybe they wouldn't have nights like this for quite some time. What was important, they told themselves, was that their feelings made things like this possible. Ron thanked Hermione for always being the brave one as their legs remained tangled up in one another.

"'Mione?"

"Yeah?"

"You're okay, right?"

She placed a palm to Ron's cheek. "Never been better, darling."

"We're okay then?"

Hermione nodded. "We're perfect."