On most days, when he didn't have training, or he wasn't working at the shop, Ron Weasley could be found sound asleep in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place until well past noon. But this was definitely not most days.

Instead of hiding his head under a mound of pillows while his alarm screeched obnoxiously, he actually woke an hour before it was set it to go off.

Instead of shuffling with a grumble to the loo, he actually bounded into the tiny room, started the shower and leapt out of his pyjama bottoms before the water even began to flow from the nozzle.

Today's morning happiness was all a result of one thing: Hermione was coming home. For good. No more stolen hours, no more too-quick holidays, no more tear stained letters. They could be together-properly together.

He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, flexing them against the cold porcelain of the ancient tub. Even the groaning pipes couldn't clog the bubbles of joy that evervessed through his blood stream.

The last year had been tough- tougher than he could have ever prepared himself for. They had both given each other the lie they were desperate to believe: It can't be any worse than what we've lived through 'till now: basilisks, death eaters, horcruxes, war, Harry's snoring…. The fatal flaw in their logic was that all of those challenges had one thing in common: they had faced them TOGETHER.

Through the years he'd had small glimpses of what his life would be like without Hermione: summers, ill-fated arguments, epically bad fuck-ups; but none of those prepared him for the Grawp-size hole that her extended absence would leave in his life. Just when he'd gotten his head out of his arse; just when they'd sorted out their feelings, fate had decided to separate them. More than once he'd questioned his decision to forgo his final year at Hogwarts, but they had decided, together, that his staying made more sense.

To be perfectly honest the thing that kept him going, that one thing that kept him from going insane on those nights when he dropped into his bed world weary and aching, was the feeling that he was here to get things set for her return. He was laying the foundation for their future, a foundation they could build on. It gave him this really weird sense of pride. He'd talked to his Dad, who in turn had gotten all teary-eyed, as they'd tinkered in the shed.

"Son...I am so proud of you...of the man you're becoming."

He'd tried not to blush, Hermione was really helping him to accept compliments, "I know it probably sounds mental...people say we're too young...but I know that she's it for me! I just want to give her the life she deserves."

"The world, both magical and muggle, will always try to convince you otherwise, but when you know your heart, you just know. That's how it was with me and your mum. I knew I could never give her a fancy life, but I knew that nobody else could love her more than I did...than I do. What you both deserve is to build a life of happiness, never doubt that."

He didn't doubt it, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't do everything in his power to give her the best he could. Practically every galleon he made was stashed away in his Gringott's vault, he still couldn't believe that they let him back in the place, and he lived off a tenth of what he earned at the shop, hell he'd even learned to appreciate the appeal of a corned beef sandwich. While he knew that Hermione was not the type to need fancy things, he wanted to be able to take care of her-not that she couldn't take care of herself-it was complicated-but then again, not at all. Everything he did: busting his arse in Auror training, picking up extra shifts at the shop, helping Harry renovate Grimmauld Place, all of it was to build a better life for them. He couldn't wait another minute to have her with him, always.

Warm water cascaded through his hair, washing over his face-splitting grin and down his copper stubble. He just needed to make it through the next few hours, then he could have her all to himself, alone. Desire spread through him so rapidly that he closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. Not that he was opposed to a good shower wank, especially in the morning, there was really no better place: no clothes, no interruptions, no cleanup; but it felt like a waste to partake in a substitute when the real deal was so close at hand. Although, he reasoned with himself, it had been weeks since he had been with her, so...if he didn't do a few practice drills, the match could be over far too quickly. That was not a chance he was willing to take.

Working the soap into a healthy lather, Ron began to wash. His hands worked practiced circles down his chest and torso. Hermione had been more than a little impressed by the effects training had produced in his physique. There was a solid layer of muscle forming over his usually lanky frame. He looked forward to putting those muscles and his increased stamina to use later this evening, afternoon if I can get rid of all the bloody relatives. As his hands worked lower he called up his favorite shower memory, his breath hitching as fingertips brushed the increasing hardness jutting out into the stream of water.

A memory, not just a fantasy. It still boggled his mind to think that it had actually happened. He hadn't dreamt it or seen in it one of the Daydream charms that was a bestseller at the Wheezes. Languid strokes of his cock brought the details to the surface.

"Mind if I join you?"

Surely he had to be dreaming-maybe he'd slipped and hit his head on the fancy tile. He'd be lying if he said this wasn't exactly the scenario he'd dreamed up when he first walked into this posh loo and got a good look at the biggest shower he had ever seen. He'd all but convinced himself that it was a fantasy that would remain only in his mind, but now it was playing out and he'd be damned if he'd be the one to stop it.

"You never have to ask that question...now that you mention it, I'll be offended if you let me shower alone ever again."

She smiled then and began to untie the front of her robe. For all her brave words, he wasn't blind to the nervousness that showed in her slightly hesitant fingers. It was a nervousness he understood, even shared, although considering all the things they had done over the past month, and especially this last week, neither of them had anything to be the least bit shy about.

"We can't have that, now can we?"

As the terry cloth pooled around her feet, Ron fought the urge to open the glass door and pull her rapidly into his arms. Deciding instead to play it cool, well as cool as a lanky love-sick ginger who was only three days past losing his virginity was capable of playing it; he stepped back a little under the spray of the water as an invitation for her to join him.

"I was hoping you'd sleep in, but I have to say that this is even better" he took her hand as she stepped into the shower both in eagerness to touch her and caution for her safety.

"You say that now, but wait until I monopolize all the hot water," her eyes twinkled up at him and for a moment he couldn't even fathom what water she was talking about, much less form a witty retort.

He dipped his head, catching her lips soundly with his own. Boldly she slid closer, releasing his hand and draping her arms over his shoulders. Ron's moan reverberated deep in his throat, amplified by the tile. The supple wetness of her tongue and her skin was softening his mind and hardening his cock.

After spending so much of his adolescent life attempting to hide his body's reaction to her, it was difficult to fight the impulse to pull away. He did break the kiss to make sure he hadn't gone too far too fast; she looked anything but uneasy. She looked, in fact, as if she'd been draping her wet naked body over him for years and had loved every minute of it. Ron, on the other hand, felt like he was on the verge of embarrassing himself if he didn't take a moment to collect his thoughts.

"How about we wash up a bit...before you hog all my hot water?" He prayed that his voice didn't sound as shaky to her as it did in his own head.

She laughed, he would never get tired of hearing that sound, and placed a delicate kiss on his chest, "Sounds lovely, do you have a flannel?"

"Yeah, right here," as he reached over her shoulder to retrieve the cloth, a thought struck him, as quick and hard as a bludger, but it couldn't be, could it?

"Let me," she opened the posh little bottle of soap and poured a large glob into the middle of the flannel, "want me to start with your back?"

He nodded and turned toward the spray, as she lathered his back his mind continued to work. She began to make firmer circles and he silently wondered how long they could stay in the water before their bodies pruned up like a currant. A small grunt broke his reverie, he supposed it was his own.

"Feel good?"

"You have NO idea."

She moved lower, giving the same attention to his bum before returning to his shoulders. This time she stepped even closer, bringing her front into delicious contact with his back. Her nipples traced patterns across his skin as she moved, obviously on tiptoe, to reach his arms as he braced them on the tile for support.

"Hermione?"

"Huh?"

"The flannel," he had to know, and now was the perfect opportunity, "that night, at Grimmauld Place," he hesitated, his body overcome with the bliss that was her slippery flesh.

"Yes," he felt her voice as much as he heard it.

"I was just wondering...did you...were"

"Yes," there was no hesitation, no other way that he could interpret her answer, but he had to be certain.

He did not turn around, afraid that he would lose his nerve, "So you forgot it on purpose?"

"Um-hum."

"And you asked me to bring it to you…and you asked me to stay, on purpose?"

"Do you thin I'm horrible?"

Her voice was small, could she honestly think that he was upset by this revelation?

"Horrible?" He rounded on her so quickly that he almost lost his balance. "As always, you are entirely too brilliant for my own good!"

"I thought you may have known...it always felt like I was being entirely too obvious."

"Maybe for someone else, but you forget that I am exceptionally thick," he wrapped his arms around her, leaning in for a kiss.

"You most certainly are," she winked, grinding against him ever-so slightly. Would he ever get enough of this Hermione, flirty and starkers? Never. His inner 15 year old emphatically agreed.

"So," he dropped a kiss at the corner of her upturned mouth, "what exactly was your plan that night?" Kiss. "Was it something like this?" Kiss.

"Don't think I had a plan, not really," she tilted her head back, allowing him access to her neck. Her whimper burned through his blood, and he crushed her to him.

His tongue traced a path to her ear where he panted, "no plan? That doesn't sound like the Hermione I know and love."

"Love?" It wasn't really a question, he'd confessed it to her weeks ago, but he knew how much hearing it affected her.

"Love," he nipped her lobe gently, "...madly. Want...desperately"

"Ron," her moan drove him impossibly close to the edge of his control.

With every ounce of restraint he possessed, he slowly returned to her lips, kissing her deeply. He shuffled his feet and guided her around in a small circle until she was nearest the water. "My turn," he quipped, turning her back toward him. She handed him the cloth she had used earlier, but he tossed it over his shoulder, "Nah, won't be needing that."

She didn't have time to laugh, his hands came up and around her ribcage, cupping her breasts from underneath while his thumbs flicked across her taut nipples. She squirmed against him, increasing the friction between their wet bodies. She was moaning in earnest now, and before he could stop himself, he rolled the stiff peaks between his fingers more forcefully than he'd ever done before.

"Oh god!"

"Like that?" the question sounded even sexier out loud than it had in his mind, but he genuinely needed to be sure that she was enjoying herself and wasn't just in pain.

"Yesssss."

That was all he needed to hear. Moving her sleep disheveled locks to the side with his chin, he went back to work on her neck. His fingers followed the path of water down her body until he encountered her curls. Hermione seemed to know his intention for she widened her stance to give him better access. Despite the shower, he groaned to find her so slick. It still boggled him that she wanted him physically as much as he wanted her. And while he lamented the lost time, a part of him was glad that they hadn't known sooner...there would have been no way he could've kept himself in check on prefect rounds, and they would have most definitely been caught, or worse expelled.

As he made delicate circles over her clit, Ron thrust himself against her. The combination of sensations was exquisite: her tit in one hand, his fingers in her fanny, and his cock sliding against her magnificent arse. Hermione began to wobble slightly, but regained her stability by bracing herself against the wall. The change in position caused his erection to slip lower, causing them both to react.

"Fuck."

"More, Ron...please," she looked back over her shoulder at him, the water thankfully angled so that she was in no danger of drowning. It was obvious that she wanted to shag, but the only love making they had done so far had been in a bed, in a horizontal position. He could not meet either of those requirements at the moment, and he didn't think she wanted him to. The problem was, he wasn't quite sure how this would work. Not only did neither of them have any experience with the position or the location, there was also the fact that their difference in height, which while not a factor when lying down, was a pretty big issue when they were standing up.

"Like this?" again, he had to be certain.

"God yes!"

He adjusted his stance, bending his knees to try and make the angles work. Hermione understood and instinctively rose up on the balls of her feet. Pushing forward he found himself surrounded by the slick heat of her folds, but he did not feel that tell-tale tightness that was her core. Pulling back, he tried again. Just when he caught the opening, Hermione came down on her heels and he knew they would have to try again. This was most certainly a challenge he would complete or die trying.

"Wait,"

Shite! Now he'd taken too long and she'd changed her mind. Certainly he didn't want her to do something she was uncomfortable with, but he knew it would be brilliant if they could just figure out the logistics.

"I have an idea."

Of course she did! And now she could use that fantastic brain of hers to calculate the best sexual positions, he really was the luckiest wizard in the entire effing world!

"Ok," he panted, wanting to say more but quite honestly, lust had cast a haze over his brain as compelling as any imperious.

She smirked at him in a way that confirmed his suspicion that he had in fact been a horrible influence on her after all.

"Why don't you sit there," she turned and pointed at the tile seat at the back of the enormous shower, "and I'll show you the rest."

He complied quickly. He'd wondered earlier why in the world muggles would put a bleeding bench in a shower, maybe all that work with no magic tired them out too much to stand through an entire bath, but now he found himself wanting to erect a monument to the genius who'd come up with such a wonderful idea.

Hermione came closer, kneeling in front of him and running her hands slowly up his thighs. His erection, almost painful at this point, stood hopefully between them. She looked down and the look in her eyes could only be described as hungry. When she leaned forward and took the tip in her mouth, sucking softly, he feared he just might lose his load before he could get all the details of what appeared to be the best plan ever.

"Hermione," he tangled his fingers in her hair and did his best not to thrust up as she took more of him into her mouth. She hummed a contented reply around his length and he thought he just might lose his grip on reality.

He wanted to watch her, it was the most erotic sight he could ever even imagine, but he was eventually forced to close his eyes and concentrate on the feel of her exceptionally wicked mouth.

When he did manage to open them again she was looking straight at him; he had to slam his opposite hand against the tile to stall his rapidly building orgasm.

"'Ermione...please. I don't wanna...not like this...come 'ere"

She stood then, closing his knees as she did. For a moment he was confused when she turned around, but then she backed up until she straddled his long legs, and he understood. Gripping his erection at the base with one hand, he used the other to guide her into the perfect position.

Hermione braced her right hand on the tile wall for balance as she sank down, bringing him into her aching center at last. He forced himself to be still and let her take control. It was an intoxicating sight: her head thrown back, lips parted as she raised and lowered herself on his waiting cock. He couldn't believe how different it felt from this angle, but wonderfully familiar at the same time.

He rested his hands on her waist, marveling at the sight of their joining. It was slightly unreal, like he was watching it happen from outside his body. Of course he was very much in his body, in her body to be more accurate. He could feel the bliss building. It was all starting to overwhelm him, but he willed himself to hold on as long as possible.

"Ron!"

At first he was startled by her exclamation, but soon he noticed that her legs were beginning to shake. She was whimpering in the sexiest way imaginable.

"You feel so good...I think I'm...Ron...I'm close."

Holy shit! She was close; she was going to come, with him inside her. He knew he had to hang on. Fingers digging into her hips, teeth digging into his lip, he thrust up just as she moved down. He felt her contract around him even before she cried out, gripping him in a way that he had never even dared to imagine, it was just that incredible.

"Fffffuck!" Ron shouted into his tiny ensuite, slowing his strokes as he came along with his memory-self. Not quite ready to leave his reminiscence, he closed his eyes and recalled the glorious afterglow they'd shared all those months ago.

"Ffffuck," he could feel a pulsing, not quite sure if it was him or her, or possibly both of them. He rested his forehead on her back, her scent, clean and subtle, calming his ragged breath.

"That...was...wow." Her face was red, she was panting, but she looked stunning, and completely satisfied.

He slipped from inside her, causing them both draw in a sharp breath of loss, and turned her around in his lap. As hot as their shagging had just been, it was nice to be able to hold her and look at her fully in the face. After so many years of looking the other way, fearing she would catch him staring, he would never pass up the opportunity to gaze at her unimpeded.

"It was even better than I imagined it...back then," it sounded silly to even say it, better was an understatement of epic proportions. Better didn't even come close.

"So you imagined it too?"

"Hermione, I've been fantasizing about this since I learned to fantasize. Hell! I think every shower wank I've ever had was basically me thinking about soaping up your tits."

She barked a laugh, "Was that all?"

"Well," he was too spent to blush, "that was usually as far as I got before I...well...you get the idea."

"I think I've learned over the last few weeks, that when it comes to us, my fantasies were all theory, but the practical application…"

"Exceeds expectations?"

"Yes, but with just a bit more work, I think we could be Outstanding," she mimicked his waggle of the eyebrows and they both broke into a fit of laughter.

He chuckled at the memory. After a quick clean up, Ron emerged from the bath more eager than ever to begin his life with Hermione. A life where they would build happiness with each other. A life where they could share their passion and their playfulness in equal measure. A life where they really must get a bigger shower.