a/n: Written for the Sinfully Romione Fest'18, category: Lust.

ps. I know many of you are waiting for me to update When Fate Decides. Send us some good thoughts coz both my beta and I are stuck neck deep in RL issues. We should have that update ready and posted as soon as our lives decide to give us a break.

An air of apprehension and gloom clouded the dinner that night. Even the twins were subdued with their jokes, and that was never a good sign. Voldemort was casting his ominous shadow over England, and the effects of the same were beginning to show everywhere they looked. Murders and disappearance had become commonplace. All the spoons of the Weasley clock were now stuck constantly at 'Mortal Peril' as a rude, ominous reminder of the darkest period in British Wizarding history.

Hermione glanced up from her plate to look at Ron who was seated a few places ahead, cramped between Lupin and George. They had all managed to squeeze inside the Burrow's kitchen tonight. Perhaps it was a subconscious effort on their parts to draw strength from each other, she observed. The voices were low as they discussed plans and events, and despite the resilience that the Order displayed, Hermione could feel the lingering sense of dread encompass them all. For the hundredth time since her arrival, she was glad that she'd sent her parents away, for the millionth time, she wondered if she had seen them for the very last time that Wednesday morning. She swallowed a sob and looked around. This was where she belonged now, in fact, she had always been a part of this weird family in some way. At least she had all these people, at least she had her friends- and thank goodness she had him.

Her eyes sought and found Ron again. She could see worry lines mark his handsome features despite all his attempts to appear in control. Forcing the jitters away, and in order to get some much-needed nourishment, she concentrated on her plate of food again.

In a week's time, they'd travel together to fetch Harry.

A fresh pang of nerves hit her at the thought and she stole another quick glance at Ron. Almost at the same time, he paused and looked up at her. Could he have sensed her anguish? She had noticed that of late, they no longer needed to put their thoughts in words. One look told her all- yes, he too was thinking of the upcoming mission. He was worried about Harry, concerned about all of them- anxious about her safety.

A different kind of nerves hit her at that moment, one that could have been triggered by years and years of longing, or perhaps by the desperate need for comfort? Or, she contemplated, just out of … love.

In the weeks between Dumbledore's funeral and today, the hazy lines that marked the crossing between friends to lovers had blurred further. Although neither of them had said anything so far, it was evident in the little gestures. Their hugs stretched a little longer than friendly ones were supposed to and were a lot more frequent. She loved how, now it was almost normal- expected even- for him to wrap his arms around her shoulder every time they sat next to each other. Almost every night in the past couple of weeks, she had found herself huddled next to him, with a book on her lap which more or less lay forgotten, while they spoke in quiet whispers. They mostly discussed Harry, the Horcruxes and their plans to leave for the hunt. But amidst all that was dark and gloomy, they would also talk about the future. Ron was sure, they'd get out of the mess, or maybe he wanted to keep her jitters away. Whatever it was, the tactic worked. She woke up less frequently after those stolen nighttime meetings. And sometimes, the nightmares weren't the only thing keeping her awake...

For the past couple of nights though, she had found herself craving his proximity more than ever. She blamed her hormones- just because her years worth of longing didn't seem futile anymore, it wasn't prudent at all for her to get carried away...Granted, it didn't even seem one-sided anymore... Sometimes during those quiet hours in his room, she felt something in his gaze change- a subtle aggressiveness (which she knew lingered just below the surface) would come to the fore, and one or both would look away quickly, afraid to take that last, important step forward. There was a fair chance Ron was holding back in fear of messing it up all again -they had a disastrous record, after all, marred by confusions and miscommunications. But all that was in the past, when they still had the liberty to think and act like the teenagers that they were. Time had changed now; the future was marked with uncertainties. She wished he wouldn't hold back anymore- wished he'd take the initiative. If he indeed felt the way she did, he owed her that after the Lavender fiasco, didn't he?

As the dinner came to a close, she found the strange knot in her abdomen twisted further. Hermione spent the longest amount of time help clear the dinner table. She could see Ron trying to grab her attention but avoided giving him the chance to speak to her alone. She desperately needed time to sort her emotions before she could be in his company again. However, it wasn't long until he managed to find her by herself- in the pantry no less.

"Coming upstairs?" he inquired in a hurried whisper, checking over his shoulder for his Mum.

"Perhaps not tonight, Ron," she replied, pretending to be busy; his familiar aftershave was tugging at her self-control already.

"Oh."

He sounded so crestfallen that Hermione wished she could tell him her true reasons for running away. But she feared he knew it already, feared admitting it aloud would only make it impossible for her to hold back...

"G'night, Ron," she whispered and turned. One glance at him and her heart skipped a beat. Before she could reign in her body, she had already tiptoed to kiss him on the cheek. His arm wrapped around her immediately, and she cursed herself. Why must he be so irresistible? How was she going to survive twenty-four hours with him without any adult supervision?

Unaware of her musings, he bent over slightly to be at her eye level, arms still around her shoulders. The way his eyes roved over her features made her want to throw the caution to the wind and snog him right then and there.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a hushed voice, brows furrowed in concern, and she managed a nod, not trusting her voice. "You can come upstairs anytime, you know?"

She could make out the plea in his words; Ron wasn't doing a great job hiding his emotions after all. With his face so close to her, she bit her lips in an attempt to control the urge to touch that face, or worse(better?) kiss him full on the lips. But then, there would be no going back... Either she had reached the limit of her self-control, or her hormones had decided to wreak further havoc in her life, but either way, resisting Ron was getting significantly harder by the minute.

With a shivering hand, she extracted herself from his arms, "G'night, Ron," she whispered and practically ran outside.

...

The night was quiet and the inhabitants of the house fast asleep when she tiptoed her way out of Ginny's bedroom to trudge up to the bathroom. It was the only time of the day and the only place in the house that offered some privacy.

She closed the door shut behind her with a trembling hand. It made her overly embarrassed to think what she had come up here for, but did she have any other option? In all honesty, she did. She could climb up the rest of the way, and his bedroom door would've been left open for her. Her cheeks flushed at the forbidden line of thought. Why was it so simple and yet, at the same time, so utterly difficult? And yes, tempting enough to override logic...

She discarded her pyjamas quickly before her rational brain lost to her heart and walked into the shower. Turning the knob, she allowed a gentle stream of water to flow down and drench her. Unbidden, an image of Ron materialised in front of her as she looked down at herself. It would surely take years, and a mammoth of a task to get done before they ever got to this point. No matter how far in the future it was, she hoped there would be a time when she and Ron would…when she wouldn't have to use her imagination and he'd be there to…

She ran a hand down her side, imagining Ron's large, calloused hand and shuddered almost immediately. Her fingers travelled further south as she closed her eyes, picturing his face close to hers. What would he say when he saw her this way the first time?

"Shite!"

"Ron?!" she gasped aloud, hand jerking away from her highly sensitive core, and fumbled for a towel to wrap around. Had she forgotten to close the door?! Oh, sweet Merlin!

"'Ermione?" came the reply, definitely from the other end of the wood, and she found herself torn between relief and regret and an array of all sorts of complicated emotions, the strongest of those being desire. He was so very close, and yet so far...

"Do you want to use the bathroom?" she asked in the most casual voice she could manage, even as the thought of him coming in while she was in the bath caused her hormone-troubled body to cry out for mercy.

"I- well, no… I was just… couldn't sleep… was looking… never mind" he mumbled in response.

She could almost picture him, fumbling as he stood outside the door, ears burning red. Was he... imagining her… naked? "I'm taking a shower," she added and gasped in mortification. Why on earth did she say that?!

Woah! Fuck! What on earth was she doing?! Why was she telling him that?! Did she want him to ….

Ron was pretty certain he was going to die of suppressed sexual tension right outside the bathroom door. It was already bad enough that he'd come downstairs to coax her to come up to his room even after she had refused once. And now he was also waiting for her to appear out of the bath. And finally, he had to go trip on his extra large feet and make his presence known. Such an arse!

Ron was so accustomed to their nighttime routine that the day seemed incomplete otherwise. Seeing her once before he went to bed somehow made everything in this disrupted world seem bearable. But tonight she had refused. He had no option but to come check on her. He was at the landing when he'd seen her enter the bath.

And now he stood outside while she was in the shower, perhaps wet and definitely naked...

"Bloody hell..." he swore softly and grabbed the old t-shirt at the hem, trying uselessly to increase its length and hide the growing bulge.

"Ron? Are you still there?"

"Ye- Yeah, I am," he whispered, now standing very close to the door. He could hear the shower running and the hasty images began taking shape. Trickling drops, glistening skin...

There was a pause, and then she spoke so quietly that he wondered if he was dreaming the whole scenario up. "Do you want to come in?"

"Wha- what?" he gasped. What on earth was she trying to do?! Kill him?

"Come in… please?"

There was a soft click and the door was magic-ed opened. He walked in, spellbound, knowing well that from then onwards, there was no going back, for either of them.

A lone candle sat in front of the mirror, its flame and the reflection illuminating the entire bath. There she stood, under the shower- the same, old place where he had spent a plentiful number of nights, imagining her, dreaming of things he wanted to do to her- with her, and relieving himself with fantasies he could only hope would come true someday.

He'd never imagined that day would come so soon. And now that he was here, it felt like one of the twin's Daydreaming Charms. Even with the door closed behind him, he stood frozen on the spot, a few feet away from her towel-clad form, trying hard to figure out if it was all a very realistic fantasy. Perhaps he had been hit on the head and was hallucinating? Well, in that case, he was never waking up.

She looked up, wet hair dripping over her shoulders and a towel covering her chest to mid-thigh, displaying more skin than he'd ever glimpsed, but so much less than what he desired to see and touch. Her eyes, he noticed, were spilling a thousand secrets, and asking a million questions in return. There was so much he still needed to confess, but even without having said anything, she had given him another chance- a chance he'd thought, he had lost forever. Since when did she start trusting him so much? And why? After all that snogging he'd done just to spite her, why did she still…

He found himself walking towards her slowly, giving her the chance to stop him or move away if she so desired. He paused when there was only the partially pulled shower curtain separating them. "Why did you ask me to come in?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, forcing himself not to look at her bare shoulders, aware of every breath.

"I don't know" she replied. She was blushing furiously and shivering a little too, whether it was out of anticipation or cold he didn't quite understand. "-maybe because…" she stuttered and lowered her eyes.

"-because?" he urged. His heart was beating up a storm inside his chest and Hermione was not helping matters.

"I've... I 've been feeling a lot of things lately," she whispered, eyes downcast and fingers still clasping the towel to her chest. She lifted her chin and their eyes met once more. "I'm trying to hold onto hope, Ron," she murmured, "I really want to have that future."

"So do I," he agreed, and inched a few steps closer, dangerously breaching her personal space and furiously trying to keep his hands to himself.

"I want to know why we are taking all this risk, Ron. What for?"

"For everyone to be safe I guess, 'cause it's the right thing to do? And for…" he paused. It would be a huge step ahead, but they'd already crossed that boundary tonight, hadn't they? "For us…" he added.

"Us?" She looked up and something in those eyes changed. Now there was hope and relief, and also...longing?

"Yeah, for us, for our dreams," he added fiercely.

"Does this make you feel uncomfortable?" she asked all of a sudden, watching him keenly.

"No…" he rasped, " not at all."

His eyes lingered on her face, stopping briefly at those lips he was dying to taste before his eyes travelled further south. She was insanely beautiful, and he had no fucking clue what she saw in him but he thanked his stars she did. Her midsection was covered but her legs weren't. The girl standing in front of him didn't have the faintest hint of what she meant to him, did she? She didn't know how crazy he was for her, how many nights he had dreamt of them together, how ridiculously in love he was with her. She didn't know how strained his self-control was at this point, keeping his hands from pulling that effing towel off her...

"Can I remove this towel? "

He was jolted out of his musings at her words. He gulped hard and took a few steadying breaths, "if- yeah...If you want to…" he replied.

She stretched out one hand, and he took it. Pulling off his sneakers with his toes, and kicking them haphazardly in different directions, he entered the small space behind the bath curtains. He could sense her nervousness, and his heart was practically beating out of his chest too. But despite the vulnerability (or perhaps due to it), she looked prettier than ever before. His brain was turning into a mush as he watched her, but something certainly was going the other way. Well, he was way too overdressed for whatever they were going to do (or not do for that matter) anyway- and his pyjama bottoms were getting pretty uncomfortable.

"Do ya… I mean, is it okay if I - you know-" he pointed at his shirt.

"Yes, I mean...If you want to…" she replied blushing crimson, smiling consciously.

He didn't wait for her to say it twice. Grabbing the back of it, he yanked it off in one swift stride and threw it on the floor. Her eyes roved over his naked chest, and he watched as she blushed and licked her lips moist. His ears were flaming and he was pretty certain, at this rate, he'd turn into a ball of fire pretty soon.

"Maybe we should charm the door," she suggested. He tried not to get ahead of himself at the implication of that statement, but quickly pulled out his wand and muttered the incantation, adding a silencing spell for good measure.

She inched a step closer before looking up at him, "Ron, I-"

Bloody hell, he was drowning in those brown pools tonight and not regretting it one bit.

"-we're- we're crazy," she chuckled nervously.

He grinned, placed his wand on the soap stand next to hers and finally allowed himself to touch her. He swiped a finger over her lips first, mesmerised at the softness and fullness of them. Hermione let out a soft sigh as her eyes fluttered shut.

"Dunno 'bout you," he managed hoarsely, "but I was driving myself looney trying to keep my hands off ya'."

He cupped her face and bend lower, inching towards her lips. At the first, blissful touch, his eyes fluttered shut, and he pulled her lower lip in between his, sucking slowly, softly. Merlin, this was sheer bliss. He'd probably died and gone straight to heaven.

Years and years of longing and waiting had come down to this one moment. The kiss was slow and tender, each pulling the other's lip between theirs, tasting, learning and memorising each other. Clouds of colours erupted behind his eyelids, bursting into little fireworks when she moaned into his mouth, begging him to touch more, taste deeper. The fingers of his left hand found their way into the damp curls at her nape, while the other hand found itself on the creamy expanse of her bare thigh, encircling it, inching higher into dangerous waters.

With every breath, he was burning everything about this moment into his memory. She inched closer still, and he let go of her hair to place both hands on her backside over the towel, lifting her off the floor while at the same time deepening the kiss further.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, the long-forgotten towel clinging to her body and stuck in place only due to the closeness of their bodies. Her fingers moved into his hair and he moaned- his desire mounting. He moved them towards the wall until her back was resting against it, leaving his hand free for more exploration. At that very moment, Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his lower back and he shuddered at the feel of her hot, naked core pressing against his abdomen. Finally breaking the kiss, he pressed his lips to the base of her neck and sucked hungrily.

"This needs to go, 'Ermione," he breathed into her nape as he pulled off the last piece of article hiding her from him.

As her naked body came into full view, pressing deliciously into him, Ron could feel his world tilt around its axis and come to a sudden halt. Bloody hell, this was a fine way to die. Mesmerised, he pulled away a little to watch her as he ran the pad of his fingers down between the valley of her breasts, the soft skin contrasting sharply with the calluses on his palm, and could see her skin break into goosebumps.

The creamy texture of her breasts, the contrast of the dark, pert nipples and the expanse of the unblemished skin of her taut stomach, all glistened with the remaining droplets water, was driving him crazy. Unable to hold back any longer, he placed his hand on her left breast, covering it in its entirety in his large palm. She shuddered violently at his touch, arched her back, pushing herself further into hand and whimpered words that made absolutely no sense. Blood rushed to his nether regions and he staggered a bit to maintain his hold.

He wanted to tell her she was insanely beautiful, and he was the luckiest bloke on the planet, but words failed him, so he cupped her face with his free hand while she was held in position, sandwiched between the wall and his torso. He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing deeply, forcing the primitive need from overpowering his senses, at least for a moment so he could confess his feelings for her. But his hands couldn't have enough of the touch- they wrapped around the swell of her breast before leaving them only to roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Hermione cried out, her nails scratching the skin on his shoulders.

"What do you want? Tell me what you need..." he rasped while he ran the pad of his other thumb over her lips.

"More…R-Ron..." she whimpered. "Touch me…"

"Where?" he inquired, tracing her jaw with his fingers as he buried his face at her nape again, sucking the skin, at the same time transferring his attention to the neglected breast and kneading it with vigour.

"W-Wherever you want to…Ev-Everywhere..."

He growled, body jerking forward unconsciously, mimicking an action he craved. "'You'll be the death of me," he chuckled nervously and looked up. The unbridled passion in her eyes took away any remaining traces of control he had. He stretched his hand behind him, turning the shower knob and allowing the water to run down their entwined bodies. He had hoped the cold water would help his restraint, and give him some more time to concentrate on her needs. But as he watched the water trickle down the curves of her body, streaming over her breasts and travel further south to disappear between her legs, he realised he was fighting a losing battle.

Hermione shivered as the water gushed out of the overhead shower, drenching them in cold spray. She had spent enough time in the Weasley house to know that the old pipelines didn't hold heating charms for very long. She pondered briefly over the idea of reheating the water, but the person next to her was emitting enough heat (and perhaps so was she), and touching anything that wasn't Ron wasn't appealing at all at the moment.

Supported by Ron's firm chest and the wall, Hermione managed to look up at him. The water had made his hair stick to his skull, plastering his fringe on his forehead and was running in rivulets down his face. Time seemed to still as they remain suspended in a moment of their own when nothing else mattered but them. His tender, longing gaze was fixed on her face. He smiled nervously as their eyes met, and even after all the fervent explosion of feels his touch had generated only minutes before, it was this look of his that turned out to be her ultimate undoing. Lost in the eyes that had stolen a hundred nights of sleep from her, she placed a trembling hand on his jaw, spellbound at the feel of the sharp lines and the peppering of copper stubble beneath her fingertips.

The cascading water rippling down their entwined bodies seemed to add to the background music. Yes, she was sure the silent night, the erratic beating of their hearts, the water and the steady but soft humming of the crickets and other nighttime noises made music- at least they did so tonight.

She placed an arm on his shoulder, her breathing slow as if trying to hold onto these moments, stretching the night one heartbeat at a time. She had now been in his arms more times than she could count, but this...this was different… the feel of his skin against hers.

She had seen him sans his shirt some days back when she had caught him off guard in the backyard. He had been clad just in his undershirt, glistening with sweat and busy degnoming the garden. The urge to touch him(and do so much more) had been so overpowering that she had escaped back into the house. And yet, here she was today, barely a week later...

Tonight, she could run her fingers over every inch of his skin, watch him more closely than she had ever dared dream before. She'd never again need to wonder how many freckles he hid under those shirts, ponder if they made patterns on his pale skin; tonight she could see every one of them, touch them, kiss them even…Transfixed, she placed her palm just over his heart and Ron shuddered, pushing her body harder against the wall as his left hand wrapped around her wrist and he rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed, and exhaled softly close to her lips,

"'Ermioneee…"

She bridged the teensy little space between their lips, catching his between hers before the last of her name disappeared from them.

She could feel him holding onto the last vestiges of control as his right arm wrapped possessively around her waist, pressing her naked core deliciously to himself, touching just below his waistline. The roughness of the ginger hair that peppered his skin, combined with the cotton of his pyjamas created a mind-boggling kind of friction as it rubbed against her sensitized core. Her body, a complete stranger to all these new sensations, let out a shudder, and she moaned into his mouth while rubbing herself against him subconsciously to feel it again.

Ron drew his lips away from her, and before she could whimper her complain, fingers of his left hand had wrapped around the curls at the base of her neck, and his mouth had latched onto her nape as he pushed himself more into her, crushing her nipples against the hard ridges of muscles of his chest. His hard, evident, and unfortunately clothed arousal rubbed against her core and she gasped aloud this time, gripping his wrist with one hand and shoulder with the other as he continued to hump against her.

"P-please...Ron… I w-want... n-need…" she stuttered, and amazingly enough, he understood her incoherent ramblings.

Pulling his lips away from her nape, and pausing the steady rhythm that his hips had created, he pressed his forehead to hers again, breathing deeply through his long nose that touched hers, shivering a little but not, she realised, due to cold.

She knew she'd pause every second form tonight and replay it over and over in her head when the lonely nights came again. As much as she craved this for all eternity, they had a lot to accomplish first. She knew these were the memories she'd lock in her heart and guard with her life. She'd remember watching him- so close that his lashes almost fluttered against her cheeks, remember how his breath felt on her face. He brushed her nose with his in an insanely adorable, playful manner and she giggled. Her heart was so full, she wondered if she could take it all in without exploding. Ron opened his eyes, looking deeply into hers, and they chuckled together, a mix of nerves, giddiness and surprise.

Hermione unwrapped her legs from around him slowly, and he lowered her gently to the floor. She could literally feel all her blood rushing to her face as he placed his hands at his waistband and pulled down his pyjama bottoms along with his underpants. She tried to look at his face, but her eyes were locked at the display in front of her.

Well, Ron's hands were large, so it was kind of obvious...

Finally, she managed to look up and meet his eyes. He was watching her as if seeking reassurance, just like he did when he showed her his homework and wanted her approval. She chuckled despite herself, and before she could overthink, placed a trembling hand on his manhood without breaking eye-contact. Some part of her wanted to watch him while she touched him; she wasn't entirely sure why.

In her defence, she was totally a novice, and for once, completely unsure of what she was doing. Her fingers wrapped around his length, trying to accommodate the girth when he let out a growl.

"Fuuuuuuuuuck…." he managed through gritted teeth and shuddered, almost collapsing to the floor before he caught himself by grabbing hold of her upper arms.

Caught completely by surprise, she removed her hand promptly, watching him unsure as he huffed, breathing erratic, jaws clenched.

"I'm sorry… I-"

But Ron's lips cut off her words as they crashed on hers. If she'd thought she knew what wild kissing meant from her experience tonight, she was completely mistaken.

She was still panting, her lips pleasantly sore, when he pulled away, releasing her fingers that had threaded with his long ones.

"You're… you're barmy!" he managed to chuckle, utterly breathless, "What ya sorry for?"

"I thought…" she began but it was hard to put her thoughts in words. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly instead.

"'M more than okay, 'Ermione…", he breathed, "just… not used to having you so close outside of my dreams..."

"Oh," she replied, her face burning as the full impact of his words sunk in. "Me too…" she added softly.

His hands were trembling a little when he took her hand and guided it to his arousal while his free hand wrapped around the side of her thigh, inching closer to her rear. She lay her left palm flat on his chest and in a sudden bout of bravado, wrapped her finger around him and stroked his length with his hand still encasing hers. Ron let out a grunt and threw his head back, and placed both his large palms on her arse, pulling her into him. Emboldened by his reaction, she repeated the action, bringing her other hand to stroke the underside of his shaft. His short nails scraped against her skin, and Hermione realised she was doing something right to garner that kind of reaction from Ron. But before she could think any further, he placed his hand right between her legs and she gasped aloud.

His hand gently prodded her to spread her legs and she complied; her brain seemed to have fused and lost the capacity to think. As his fingers gently stroked the softest and most sensitive areas in her body, she pressed herself back against the wall, closed her eyes shut and whimpered. She could feel nothing apart from the sensation of his calloused fingers rubbing slowly against her, pressing against her opening without going deeper. Unable to bear it anymore, she grabbed his wrist and tugged, guiding him to do more while her lower region swayed of its own accord, mimicking his actions from a while back.

Suddenly his lips were on hers. His tongue found its way in her mouth and at the same time, a finger slid inside her wet, aching core, causing her to let out a strangled moan while relief flooded her veins. She barely realised she was still stroking him with the same rhythm as his long finger drove in and out of her. They increased the tempo of their hands while Ron forced his body more into her, grunting into her mouth, thrusting into her hand repeatedly. The feeling was indescribable. Not before long, one finger became two and Ron swiped his thumb over her clit and began rubbing it... Before she knew it, everything went dark before bursting right into a mirage of colours behind her eyelids.

...

"Stay with me tonight," he murmured into her hair later that night. Hermione, who had grabbed his wrist to get out of his embrace, wrapped it back around her waist and Ron snuggled closer, spooning her from behind and sighing peacefully.

"Another hour?" she asked in a whisper, glowing in the warmth of everything that had transpired between them. For the first time ever, she lay next to him, on his bed, sharing his pillow. It felt like a page out of someone else's life. She knew the darkness would creep back into their lives the very next morning, but tonight they had somehow managed to create a Patronus of sorts- it kept them safe and blissfully happy. She almost couldn't believe how they had bared themselves to each other and witnessed something so utterly private and yet so… natural, as if that's how it was always meant to be.

"Just an hour will never be enough, y'know," he breathed, and she could feel the depth of emotions behind his words.

Their relationship had crossed an invisible line tonight, and although the words had not been said explicitly, it was out there in the open- between them at least. For a brief minute, she pondered over the implications- now, it was almost imperative to see the end of the war, to survive- but at the same time, the stakes were suddenly at an all-time high. She gripped his hand harder and turned to face him, burying herself in his chest. Ron wrapped his arm more possessively around her, pulling her deeper into him.

"I promise you my lifetime, 'Ermione," he sighed pressing a kiss on the top of her head, "if y'know, you want it..." he added as an afterthought.

"And I promise you mine," she replied as she pressed her cheek on his chest, listening and memorising his heartbeat.

a/n Some words have been changed to make it ffn acceptable. Really hope you all liked it!