"Fucking hell, what are you doing?"

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like it? Sweet Merlin, don't ever stop."

Hermione chuckled at Ron's breathy response, the sound quickly turning to a groan as she rocked against his trouser-clad lap again. He pressed his head back into the rough bark of the tree he was sitting against and grabbed helplessly at her hips.

Taking advantage of that much exposed skin, she leaned down and pressed kisses to the hollow of his throat, his adam's apple, his jaw - as pleasure spiked through her center at another thrust of her hips.

She'd never grow tired of feeling his arousal against her, knowing that she'd caused it. That it was all for her.

Just as he'd never grow tired of not having to hide it from her anymore. He had absolutely no ability to count the amount of times over the years that she'd been the cause of a painful, potentially mortifying erection.

It was crazy to him that only a couple of months ago he'd have been taking cold showers, picturing Snape in lingerie or nipping into the loo to take things in hand, so to speak, in order to hide how she made him feel. Now, Hermione effing Granger, girl of his ruddy dreams, was grinding against his groin in the orchard by his house.

Despite the fact that it was unspeakably hot, it was humbling too. It meant she loved him. She actually loved him. Given that he'd been so bloody in love with her that it practically made his brain explode since the age of fourteen, he'd never take for granted that she felt the same.

Dragging his hands up from her hips, he fisted them painlessly in her hair so he could guide her head back up from his jawline to his mouth - taking it with a need he could barely contain.

The noises she was making against his mouth as he dipped his tongue inside of hers made him tremble against her. He was surrounded by the taste of her, the smell of her in the warm summer breeze filled with apples from the trees and long, earthy grass.

"I need to touch you, Hermione. Fuck, I need to feel you." He whispered roughly against her lips before deepening their kiss again, his hands dropping from her hair down her back and then settling on her bum.

His heart rate picked up speed as he felt her hands release their grip on his shoulders to drop between them, her fingers furiously working the buttons.

When she'd reached the last one, he hastily reached up to her shoulders to help pull the fabric down her arms. She hadn't gotten the shirt completely off of her wrists before he reached for her breasts, filling his large hands with them and brushing his thumbs roughly over white cotton covered nipples.

She tore her lips from his with a moan and pressed her forehead against his own. "Take it off. Please."

She was begging him. Him, Ron Weasley, to take her bra off so he could feel her up in his orchard.

His erection went from impossibly hard beneath her to throbbing.

His fingers shot to the clasp at her back that he'd managed to get quite good at unsnapping over the last few weeks, his head sliding forward so he could take her earlobe between his teeth.

She rewarded him with deep frantic thrusts against his groin and high, needy, panting gasps that did his head in.

His brain had exactly three seconds of sanity left before he snapped and he felt them ticking away as the clasp to her bra popped open and the straps on her shoulders fell slack.

Pulling back from her, he lifted his hands up to brush them softly down her arms with his fingertips.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He whispered roughly, her breasts a millisecond away from being exposed at the perfect level for him to take a hard, hot nipple into his mouth. "Love you so much."

She was beyond reason. "I love you, Ron. Oh god, please-"

"Oi!"

The sound of a startled voice off to the left made them both jump in horror as their heads snapped toward George standing at the edge of the orchard, his eyebrows so high they practically met his hairline as he stared thunderstruck at the disheveled pair of them.

Later, much later, Ron would bust a gut laughing at Hermione's reaction. In the moment, he was frozen in horror and shock.

In a flurry of uncoordinated motion, she reached up to try and frantically grab her dangling bra straps, the shirt that still clung to her wrists immediately rising with her arms and hopelessly impeding her ability to reach them, which only caused her bra to shimmy down her shoulders further, exposing her nipple and making the entire thing worse.

With a squeak somewhere between frustration and mortification, she looked at Ron's already tomato red expression and, seeming to come to a 'sod this' type of conclusion, she grabbed her wand from where she'd discarded it on the ground beside them and disapparated off of his lap with a resounding crack.

Which left him sitting alone at the base of a tree with a staring brother, a flaming red face, disastrous hair and an obvious tent in his trousers.

They stared at each other for half a breath before George's eyes lit up and a laugh erupted from the very bottom of his toes.

Ron watched in awe, his own discomfort completely forgotten as his brother tipped his head back and practically howled with mirth. He hadn't seen him laugh like this since before-

Ron never could have known how wonderful it could sound for his brother to laugh at his expense.

"Your face!" He guffawed, looking at Ron with tears in his laughing eyes. "Your face is the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life!"

He leaned against a nearby tree for support as he cackled, pointing at Ron in his hilarity. "You looked like someone vanished your broom while you were 60 meters up!"

Despite himself, Ron felt himself cracking a small smile. He couldn't help it, the sheer joy George was taking in what could possibly be considered one of the more embarrassing moments of his life was infectious.

After a few moments of unrestrained hilarity, George straightened back up and wiped a knuckle under each eye, still chuckling. "For Merlin's sake Ron, what the hell are you two doing out here for anyone to see? The ghoul move back into your room?"

His erection completely resolved, though still painfully red in the ears, Ron stood, brushing the leaves and dirt from his pants while simultaneously trying to rearrange his hair.

"Mum said if she catches us with the door closed one more time that Hermione has to stay with Aunt Muriel until it's safe enough to go get her parents from Australia."

This news produced another round of guffaws in George and Ron tried to give him a sullen expression at being the source of his amusement as he walked toward his older brother, but it didn't really work.

God, it was good to see a smile on his face.

Slapping an arm good naturedly around Ron's shoulders, the brothers started to make their way back to the burrow.

"I still can't believe ickle Ronniekins finally pulled his head out of his arse and made a move on the delectable Miss Granger."

Ron's lips kicked up in a sideways smile.

"You know, we never thought you'd sack up and go fer it little bro. Thought you'd die a pining bachelor, moaning her name pathetically in the shower while Hermione went on to rule the entire wizarding world."

Ron's heart caught at George's use of the term "we," but he shrugged as if he hadn't noticed it. "Can't take the credit. She sorta jumped me first."

George laughed again. "Well, from what I saw, it doesn't really seem to matter who started it now. Looks like things are pretty well sorted now. You two do it yet?"

Ron's eyebrows shot up in alarm. "You…I can't…she wouldn't want…"

George's face split into an excited grin. "You did! You pervy git, you got into her knickers!"

Ron's face flooded with color again. "It's not like that, thickhead."

George snorted. "Sure it's not. What'd you have to do, confund her so she'd let you crack that book?"

He felt indignation mix with his joy for his brother's disposition and his feet halted their forward movement. "What the hell are you on about, George? This isn't some fling to get my rocks off, I fucking love her."

George stopped and stared at Ron, surprise etched across his features. It wasn't that he hadn't known how his littlest brother felt about his fellow prefect. Everyone knew.

He just hadn't expected him to feel so confident with expressing it. Ron hated having people take the mickey, always played things pretty low key when they really mattered to him. He supposed he and Fred could take a deep bow for that one. For Ron to say it like that to him, to just let it roll off of his tongue? Well, shit. He clearly didn't give a rat's ass if he got teased for it or not. This was the real deal.

Which meant George had no choice BUT to take the mickey now.

He hesitated for half a beat and then grimaced. "You want me to lose mum's corned beef out here? It's bad enough I caught the show, now you've gotta spew proclamations of love all over me? You're grosser than Bill when he brought Fleur 'round to meet the family."

Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking again. "Yeah, well, at least everyone likes my girl."

Merlin, he loved calling her that.

George kept pace beside him and nodded. "True. Can't deny you got a good one. When she's not trying to make everyone follow rules, anyway."

Ron smiled again, the fondness in it not lost on his older brother. The little wanker was in deeeeep.

They made it to the porch and George flicked his head up toward the fifth floor.

"Think she apparated up to yours?"

Ron sighed. It was one thing for HIM to be caught by George in a compromising position. Hermione had to be completely humiliated.

"Probably Ginny's. We're gonna be lucky if she comes back out the rest of the summer." Looking over at George, his expression turned pleading. "Don't torture her, a'right? Say what you want to me, but she's gotta be mortified."

George rolled his eyes. "Is sir Ronnie trying to protect the virtue of his lady love?"

Ron shrugged. "You could say that."

George winked. "Don't worry. I won't say anything…much."

And with that, he walked inside with a spring in his step and, in all likelihood, a prank in his heart.

Ron couldn't bring himself to be truly upset about any bit of it.