A/N: This story is totally romione fluff. It might be the first romione fanfic I've written that has absolutely no angst. Also, I struggled with whether to rate this T or M because it's not that explicit, but it's still more smutty than most of what I've written before. I've decided to rate it M, but I don't think the smut is too bad. Anyway, please enjoy. Comment what you think because I'm not sure how I feel about this one.

The street in London was quiet, scenic even. The kind of place that radiated good vibes and calmness. Perhaps the only silent street in London. It was the sort of street where the flats were not the best in the city, but not the worst either. The kind of street one could picture a bunch of 20-something college students living in, trying to figure out life and having fun while they still could. It gave one a sort of youthful pleasure just to look at it. It was peaceful.

That is until a loud yell erupted from one of the flats, breaking the image completely. Standing in one of the many flats was a young couple, one ginger and one brunette, both not unattractive but not exactly drop-dead gorgeous. The kind of couple that seemed to live in every house on the street. Young, college-age, and madly in love. Utterly normal. Mundane, even.

Except the fact that both were wizards, of course.

"God, Hermione. I cannot believe you!" The lanky ginger shouted.

"You cannot believe me?" The bushy-haired, petite brunette standing across from him fired back. "Ron, it's not like I was the one who embarrassed you in front of your entire family. I should hex you for what you did!"

Ron snorted, although he looked around the room nervously, as if expecting her conjure birds to attack him again. He forced courage. "Oh, come off it Hermione. It wasn't even that bad. So your dad caught us kissing! It's not like he didn't know we did that. Yes, it was embarrassing, but it wasn't nearly as bad as your making it out to be."

"Really?" Hermione shouted incredulously, "Really, Ron? He looked like he was going to kill you. He would have if my mom hadn't come in and distracted him. Anyway, I don't understand why you had to kiss me right there in my parent's kitchen of all places? Can't you control yourself? We aren't animals!"

"It's not like you were kicking and screaming, Hermione!" Ron shouted back. "You kissed me back."

"Only out of habit." Hermione maintained stubbornly. "I thought it was vastly inappropriate, really."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure. That's why you were the one who thought it was a good idea to hop onto the counter and wrap your legs around my waist, right? That's exactly why you kissed me even harder. Makes perfect sense now."

"Of course. I knew you would do this. Completely withholding responsibility as always." She snapped. "I knew you wouldn't dare derogate to tell the truth."

Ron's eyes flashed. "Don't do that! God, I hate it when you do that." He groaned.

"Do what?" Hermione yelled back, bushy hair standing on end.

"Use all those stupid big words when we're fighting! It makes you seem so high and mighty, like you think you're better than me. I hate it."

"Oh, you hate it, do you?" Hermione asked, stepping closer to the much taller Ron with an angry smirk filling her face. Despite her much smaller stature, she managed to look imposing, puffing her chest out and putting her hands on her hips. She leaned up to his ear and whispered, "The word you were trying to call me just now was pretentious, Ron. It makes me seem pretentious."

"Yes, I do." Ron replied to her question, glaring down at her. His cheeks turned red when she corrected him. "Stop that!" He snapped.

"You want me to stop? Really? Is it acrimonious to you? Does it make you apoplectic, Ron? Isn't it just so belligerent?" She said, voice soft but filled with resentment.

Ron's expression only grew angrier. "Hermione, stop it…" He warned quietly.

"Oh, I know why it's such a nuisance to you. It's because you have an infinitesimal knowledge of etymology, right?" Hermione asked, antagonizing him further.

Even though Ron understood only about one third of what Hermione had just said, he felt vastly insulted. He took a step closer to her. He was close his lips nearly brushed hers when he whispered, "Hermione, shut up."

Hermione stared at his lips a few moments and he thought she might actually be quiet. "No," she said, sounding like a stubborn two year old. "I will not shut up. Not until you admit that you discomposed my prestige with my parents and completely deprecated my discomfort at the situation just now."

Ron leaned even closer, so that his lips did just barely brush hers when he murmured, "Hermione, I'm not even sure what you just said was English."

Hermione gazed up at him, gulping rather audibly. Then she regained her composure and raised her brows condescendingly. "Shall I translate? Basically I just said you were a complete and total…"

Before she could fill in the sentence with whatever adjective she had handy, Ron leaned down and kissed her hard. She hopped up a bit awkwardly, but he managed to catch her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, just as they had at her parent's house and he hoisted her up, carrying her into the kitchen and setting her on their counter. He figured now was as good a time as any for a do over.

"Arse." Hermione finished her sentence, needing to have the last word as always.

"Finally, you said something that made some sense." Ron murmured against her lips and Hermione let out a soft laugh.

Just like that the past fight was forgotten.

As Hermione's legs wrapped more tightly around his waist, their lips reconnected and Hermione's fingers ran through his hair. The feeling expanding in Ron's chest was nothing new; in fact he should have been used to it by now. Despite that, when it hit him it still surprised him, knocked him off his feet. It was like Hermione was dropping those basilisks again and running for him. He was still that teenage boy, unsure and inexperienced, tenderly kissing her but hoping for so much more. Even after so much more had happened, Ron still felt the same way anytime their lips met.

Hermione tugged on his hair gently and he didn't need her to tell him what she wanted. By now he could read her body language perfectly. The way she pulled away an inch or so, tugged at his hair, and arched her neck. His lips trailed down to her chin, and from there to her neck. Her fingers dug gently into his hair, but he didn't mind the slight roughness. Hermione let out a soft moan as his lips trailed along her neck and down to her collarbone.

She slowly, painstakingly began to unbutton his shirt, her fingers trailing gently along every inch of skin she exposed before going to the next button. Ron's heart beat so quickly he was sure she could feel it, and his breath came out in slightly shallow tufts as he pushed on of her dress straps aside, kissing the exposed skin. She finally finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it down his arms, where he helped her toss it aside.

Their lips met with ferocious desire once more, and he knew neither one of them would stay fully clothed much longer. It ended up taking much longer than he had hoped, but Ron had managed to get her out of that annoyingly tight dress and a much easier pair of bra and panties. She had managed to get his pants and boxers off, which took far too long and involved a lot of Ron trying to kick things out of the way: first his shoes, then his pants, then finally his underwear. There had been a lot of laughter between kissing and even more arguing.

"Ron, the zipper to the dress goes the other way!"

"I'm pulling it that way, Hermione. It just won't budge."

"You're obviously doing it wrong. Let me see."

"It's not my fault! The damn dress is like two sizes too small for you."

"Ronald Weasley, are you calling me fat?"

"No. This damn dress just won't budge."

Of course, the problem was eventually solved.

Then came the next one:

"Jesus Christ, Hermione what the hell are you doing down there?"

"Trying to get these damn pants off."

"Well, you're being a bit rough. I mean, you are aware what is under those pants, right?"

Then an exasperated, "No, Ronald. I think it's just a black hole. Of course I'm aware. But they won't come off!"

"Let me see."

Then a pop and an, "Ow! Damn it, Ron! Your button just came undone and hit me in the eye. Why did you try and help? I was fine by myself."

"Sure. That's why they're finally coming off now." He snorted.

"Oh, just shut up and take off your shoes so you can get your pants further than just your ankles."

"Does it really matter? It works either way, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it matters!"

And of course, that problem was solved eventually too.

It was worth every problem and small argument in the end.

The rest of the night was perfect. They finally finished what had started in her parent's kitchen. Their fingers were rough on each other's skin, yet also the most gentle caresses both had ever felt. Their lips met feverishly and then blessed every inch of each other's skin. They maneuvered around the counter, heat expanding in each of their chests. Hermione's fingers dug into Ron's back as she pulled him closer with her legs. Ron's fingers dug into her hip bones in return. And when it was over, both completely spent, breath coming out in shallow swallows, they sat on the counter for what seemed like hours, fingers holding onto one another for dear life, trying to catch their breath, blissful smiles on both of their faces.

After sitting like that for what felt like forever, Hermione finally murmured, "That was the most auspicious, anomalistic thing I've ever felt, Ronald Weasley."

Ron grinned, not so annoyed with her choice of wording this time. "I don't know what that means, but I'm hoping it's something good." He murmured in a hushed voice against her shoulder.

"Oh, trust me, it is." She whispered back, a grin filling her features. Then her lips met his neck once more. "In fact, I'm filled with such concupiscence I think I'd like to do that again," she murmured against his neck.

Ron had no idea what concupiscence was, but he understood what "doing that again" was, so he didn't argue, just kissed her once more, that familiar feeling entering his chest once more.