…And Tell Me That You Love Me

Ron knocked on the red-painted, wooden door of the suburban house. He stepped back to appreciate the home. It was kept in such order that it reminded him of Harry's relative's house in Little Whinging, only this house wasn't connected to its neighbour. The house was big, not tall like the Burrow, but more solid. Five wide windows faced out onto the street, two on either side of the door and three on the floor above. The door opened, drawing Ron's attention back to it as his girlfriend appeared.

"Ron!" said Hermione, beaming at him. "You're here."

Ron laughed, stepping into her arms for a tight hug. He pressed his lips to hers in a short, intense, kiss. "Of course I am," he said. "I told you I would come, didn't I?" Hermione nodded, taking him by the hand and leading him into the house. They passed two suitcases in the long, white hallway. There was music playing in the far room, a jolly tune insisting that people should look on the bright side of life, accompanied by whistling.

Hermione led him through a door to a living room. Its walls were also white, bare except for a piece of landscape art and a few framed photographs that did not move no matter how long Ron looked at them. All the furniture matched and there was a Christmas tree in the corner. Hermione's father stood up from the couch, hitting a button on what looked like a very fancy radio on the end table beside him just as the song faded away. No further sound came from it.

"Ah, Ron," said Hermione's father with a genuine smile on his face. Everything about him was wiry, from his build to his grey hair. He held his hand out for Ron to shake. "It's good to see you again. Did you have a good Christmas?"

"I did, thanks, Mr Granger," said Ron, trying to, both at the same time, stand up straight and seem as unintimidating as possible, as he did every time he met Hermione's parents. He knew they liked him and he wanted it to stay that way. "You?"

"Yes, thank you," said Mr Granger. "That wine you got us went down a treat. Elf-made, did you say?"

"Yeah," said Ron, trying not to laugh at the confused expression on the man's face.

"I found the passports," said Hermione's mother, striding in from the kitchen without looking up from the booklets in her hand. "You left them in the bread bin." She was dressed professionally, as she always was whenever Ron saw her. He wondered if she ever dressed any other way. Mrs Granger had the curves her daughter had inherited and held herself with a confidence Hermione had clearly tried to emulate her whole life. She looked up and spotted Ron before granting him a smile and a quick hug. "Hello, Ron, dear."

"Hi, Mrs Granger," he replied.

"Thank you so much for agreeing to house-sit with Hermione," said Mrs Granger. "I know she can take care of herself, but since you said that your police are still looking for some of those Dark Eater people we'd rather not take any chances."

"Death Eaters, mother," corrected Hermione.

"Yes of course," said Mrs Granger absently. Two quick beeps sounded from outside the house. "That's the taxi." She and her husband gave Hermione a hug. "Enjoy yourselves. Don't eat too much junk," she said as they strode out into the hall, gathering their suitcases. "We've set up the guest bedroom for you Ron. We'll be back in time for new years at your house, thank your mother again for inviting us."

"Will do, Mrs Granger," said Ron. The four exchanged goodbyes and then Hermione's parents were gone. He turned to Hermione and smirked. "Well. What should we do now?"

"I'll tell you what we're not going to do," she replied, crossing her arms. "We're not going to take advantage of my parents trust and sudden absence just so that we can snog all we like." She maintained that stance for a full ten seconds before her lips started twitching. She broke into a wide smile, laughter bubbling out of her, and rushed into his arms.

Their lips met in a burst of passion, pressing against the others as if nothing else mattered. They held each other close, keeping no space between them. Ron's hands roamed up and down Hermione's back, trying to feel as much of her as he could. He let his tongue play out, slipping between her lips and she answered him in kind. He slipped one hand down to cup her backside, eliciting a pleased groan from his girlfriend.

Hermione pulled away from him slightly, taking hold of the front of his shirt and leading him back to the couch. They sat down, Hermione mostly in Ron's lap, their lips together again. Hermione ran her fingers through Ron's hair and he shifted his head to kiss along her jawline, following it down to her neck, earning more appreciative sounds. One of Hermione's hands trailed down to his neck and passed his chest to his stomach, sliding under his shirt. He mimicked her actions behind her back, one hand gliding up under her shirt at first and then back down beneath her jeans. He gave her panty-clad behind a quick squeeze.

Hermione rocked in Ron's lap, brushing against his hardness, causing him to groan aloud. He squeezed her arse again before removing his hand and sending it back up under her shirt. He reached her bra and, with a deft twist of his fingers, snapped it open. Hermione let out a little gasp.

Ron brought his hand around to her front, gently cupping her breast. He let his thumb brush over Hermione's hardened nipple and she surged forward, pulling his lips back to hers. Too fast. Ron lost his balance, falling back onto the arm of the couch. His other hand flew outwards, hitting the radio. Music blared from it.

"Sit on my face and tell me that you love me!" sang male voices. Ron froze, sharing a wide eyed look with Hermione. "I'll sit on your face and tell you I love you too!"

Ron couldn't help it, he burst out laughing as Hermione's face flushed dark red. She reached out to stop the song, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. It didn't go on for long, extolling the virtues of oral pleasure and the sixty-nine position, and when it was over he let her turn off the radio.

"Bloody Merlin, is that the sort of thing muggles sing about?" Ron asked her.

"No!" Hermione protested, but then she frowned and looked thoughtful. "Well, yes, they often do. But usually they're more subtle about it. Besides, you can't tell me that Celestina Warbeck isn't singing about sex in Hot Cauldron Full of Love."

Ron didn't have an answer to that so he kept quiet for the moment, just lying beneath Hermione, who was resting her head on his chest. "It's not a bad idea though," he said at last.

Hermione raised her head to look at him. "Really?" she asked, incredulous. "You want to do… that?" Ron responded by waggling his eyebrows at her. Hermione bit her lip, looking sheepish. "OK."

She got up off the couch, taking his hand as he followed her, and lead him out of the room and up the stairs. She released her grip when they reached her room, heading in ahead of him. Ron followed, allowing himself a quick look around the room. The walls, what little of them were visible behind the bookshelves that covered them, were blue. Her room was at least three times as big as his own, back at the Burrow, giving her room for the king-sized bed she was standing beside. The motion of Hermione removing her shirt and bra together drew his attention back to her.

Her breasts held his attention, as always. They were hypnotic, perfect. He could stare at them for hours if there weren't so many other things he could do with them. He was jolted out of his thoughts when Hermione shucked out of her jeans and socks, leaving her in just her panties, and she said: "Well?"

Ron took that as his que to undress as well and in moments he stood as naked as she was, his erection straining against his boxers. He approached Hermione, who seemed suddenly shy now that they were trying something new, with a wide smile. He trailed his fingers up and down her body, earning shivers from her. He kissed her lips, then her chin, the hollow of her throat, her sternum, both of her breasts and then he was on his knees kissing her stomach and pulling her underwear down her legs.

"Lie down on the bed," said Hermione. Ron obeyed quickly, keeping his arms at his sides. Hermione straddled his chest, biting her lip again. He could smell her arousal but she was hesitating, only inching her way forward, so he raised his arms, put both hands on her arse and pushed her onto his face.

The taste hit as it always did. It was indescribably brilliant and one hundred percent Hermione. It was nearly overwhelming and he almost missed the cry of surprise and pleasure his girlfriend let out. He pushed his tongue up into and she gripped the headboard with one hand and his hair with the other. Her curls tickled his nose as he breathed in and he massaged her clitoris as best he could from that angle. The difficulty breathing was more severe than usual but Ron was confident he could manage, even as Hermione rocked her hips, grinding her centre on his face.

He massaged her arse at first but as her movements became more erratic he slid his hands up to cover her breasts, her nipples poking through between his middle and ring fingers. Ron licked harder, faster, and then sucked her clitoris into his mouth and he was treated to the glorious sight of Hermione coming undone above him, panting: "I love you, I love you," before sagging and falling away from him, her legs still on either side of his head.

They lay there, gasping for breath before Hermione sluggishly spoke: "Give me a minute and then I'll take care of you. Just need to recover." Ron chuckled and told her to take her time. He need to catch his breath too.

They were silent for a few minutes before Ron broke it, singing: "Sit on my face and tell me that you love me!" Hermione hit him in the flank without any real heat. Ron laughed again and this time Hermione joined him.