Ron and Hermione: Missing Moments

Daydream: Ron

Ron collapsed into bed, exhausted and grumpy.

It had not been nearly as good a day as it should have been, and the reason behind this could be summed up in two words: Lavender Brown.

Everything about her was annoying him, from her silly giggle to the embarrassing fact of her calling him 'Won Won.'

Ron cringed inwardly. That was worse than the ridiculous necklace she'd given him at Christmas. She was always bugging him to wear that ugly thing.

As if. I wouldn't be caught dead in that thing. What the hell was she thinking?

More to the point, what the hell had he been thinking?

Lavender Brown. A girl whose names were colors. What sort of idiot parents name their daughter 'Lavender', anyway?

Ron sighed. He hadn't been thinking at all, not really. If he'd thought about things, he might have thought for two seconds that perhaps it was stupid to get so angry over Hermione snogging Krum.

Well, okay, anyone would go a little ballistic hearing about that, but even so, he could have gotten the true story from Hermione ages ago if he'd only bothered to tell her, and to listen to her. If he hadn't let what Ginny said irk him so badly…if he hadn't been so stubborn…he never would have given Lavender the time of day.

He closed his eyes. If he were honest with himself, well, it hadn't been terrible in the beginning. The snogging part, anyway, was somewhat fun, even if Lavender was a bit sloppy in terms of tongue usage. And it wasn't like Lavender had been exactly prudish in the physical department either—he supposed he ought to be a little grateful that Lavender had let him see her without her top on, because, well, there was never anything wrong with being able to see a pair of naked breasts, and hers were pretty nice…

Ron covered his face with his hands as guilt flooded him. That little incident had been right before Christmas, but ever since then, whenever he thought of it, he felt guilty and stupid. It had only gotten worse now. Lavender was clinging on to him like a leach and worse, she kept trying to drag him into empty classrooms in order to take their physical relationship even further, and Ron wanted no part of it.

Well, okay, a tiny part of him was curious, but the better part of him knew it would be downright sleazy for him to keep fooling around with Lavender when he knew he was going to break up with her.

Eventually.

If she'd just get the damn hint.

Honestly, what was it with girls? Didn't she get that he wasn't really interested anymore? And on that note, what, really, was she getting out of all this? They hadn't snogged in ages, because Ron had consistently found clever and not-so-clever ways to avoid being alone with her. When she had rightly pointed out that privacy hadn't been much of a concern with him before, Ron countered that he was a prefect and he really ought to start acting like one. Even to his own ears the excuse sounded utterly lame, but Lavender had readily accepted it, which only further underscored the fact that his girlfriend was not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Anyone who knew Ron would laugh in his face if he said something like that.

And there, right there, was the heart of it: Lavender just didn't know him, and worse, she made no effort. He couldn't understand how she could possibly seem to like him so much when they barely had any conversations at all. True, it rather boggled his mind that Hermione would be interested in him, and she knew him almost better than anyone, but still…Lavender didn't seem to want conversation, or friendship, or anything. It was like all she wanted a snog partner. That was fine for a while. It wasn't fine anymore.

The worst part of this whole mess was that Hermione was his friend again, but he couldn't be with her the way he wanted. It had dawned on him sharply this past week just how badly he wanted her, not simply to snog her and do all other manner of wicked things with her—although that was a big part of it—but because of who she was. She knew him, she didn't act all flaky around him, she never would have bought him some stupid gold necklace or called him a stupid, embarrassing nickname, she would drive him crazy and nag him and challenge him and that's what he wanted, because it was exciting and real and it was everything. As for the lust part of the equation, it was all that much stronger because he felt for her so strongly, because she meant so much to him.

Merlin, he wanted her. He wanted her so badly it quite literally hurt.

Like now, because wouldn't you know, just thinking about her and her bushy hair and small, capable hands and soft doe eyes sent messages to the Little Soldier, and up he stood in greeting.

Ron groaned and realized it was going to be yet another night of frantic wanking and thinking all about Hermione and what he could be doing with and to her. He reached under his pillow for his wand and found it missing, but then remembered he'd left it on his desk. Chiding himself mentally for not having his wand on hand, he pulled open his bed curtains just enough to fetch it from his desk, when his eyes fell on something else:

Fred and George's birthday gifts.

They'd made it up to him for not giving him all that stuff on Ron's only visit to their shop: there was a Skiving Snackbox, a few Decoy Detonators, a Shield Hat (Ron wasn't sure whether or not to be insulted by that one—he had gotten pretty good at the Shield Charm), a Reusable Hangman and a Patented Daydream Charm. Ron's eyes fixed on the Daydream Charm and he felt a rush of excitement.

Grabbing the little box and his wand off his desk, Ron dived back into bed and shut his bed curtains around him, but not before catching a glimpse of Seamus's bed, which had a subtle white glow about it. Ron smirked; every bloke in the dormitory had perfected the Imperturbable Charm for the express purpose of being able to wank in complete privacy.

Ron shut his own curtains and did his own Imperturbable Charm. He tore open the box of the Daydream Charm and unfolded the parchment inside, reading everything carefully, because knowing Fred and George…

Yep, there it was. A warning to do the charm perfectly on pain of permanent damage, whatever that meant. Ron watched the little man in the diagram doing the wand movement, and he imitated it, hoping like hell he didn't screw this one up. He read the incantation carefully and hoped, too, his Latin was correct…

'Somnium fortunare!' he said loudly. In the next instant he wondered if he spoke so loudly his voice had penetrated his Imperturbable, but when he pulled back his curtains to check the other boys' beds he stumbled into the common room, and none other than Lavender Brown was standing there waiting for him.

Something about this wasn't right, Ron thought angrily. Wasn't this supposed to be a good daydream…

'Ron, we need to break up,' said Lavender calmly.

'You're right, we should,' said Ron at once.

'I'm glad we agree,' said Lavender, smiling at him in a friendly way. 'I have to go now.'

And she went, or rather she seemed to sort of fade away, leaving Ron feeling very satisfied. He blinked again and suddenly remember he was supposed to play in the Quidditch World Cup today. He turned and stepped out onto the Quidditch pitch to screams and cheers as the announcer called his name. He jumped on his broom and soared up into the air, waving to the crowds. Harry was there, too, grinning from ear to ear. Ron scanned the crowds, searching for her…

There she was. Wearing his maroon jumper with the big 'R' on it and beaming at him and blowing him kisses. Her hair was all over the place and her cheeks were pink. He grinned at her for a moment, but then the match started and he knew he had to focus on the task at hand. He saved a dozen spectacular goals, one after the other, as the crowd roared and began to sing the good version of 'Weasley is Our King.'

Suddenly Ron saw Cormac McLaggen fly into the air. He looked angry and was heading straight at Ron, as though to knock him off his broom. Ron grabbed a Beater's bat that just happened to be floating there and smacked a Bludger that happened to appear at that very moment and sent it straight for McLaggen. The Bludger smashed into his face, breaking his nose and teeth, and McLaggen fell right off his broom, landing hard on the grass and moaning in pain. Ron looked up and saw Hermione laughing and pointing at the bloodied McLaggen on the ground.

Then Viktor Krum appeared out of nowhere—he and Harry were racing for the Snitch. Ron saved two dozen more dazzling goals and the crowd began to sing 'Weasley is Our King' in four part harmony. Harry suddenly dove and Krum followed.

'Harry Potter and Viktor Krum are both diving for the Snitch…they're going to crash…'

Ron yelled in triumph as Harry pulled out of the Wronski Feint at the last second, clutching the struggling Snitch. Krum, meanwhile, crashed headlong into the dirt. He looked up again to see Hermione laughing and pointing at Krum, and holding up a sign that said 'Vicky is a Grouchy Git and a Terrible Kisser!'

The crowd went mad. Some were singing 'God Save the Queen.' Others were chanting 'Potter, Potter!' And of course, still many others were singing 'Weasley is Our King.' Mediwizards dragged McLaggen and Krum off the pitch, not being all that careful of their injuries, and Ron, triumphant, flew down to the pitch, where Hermione threw herself on him.

'Ron, you were brilliant!' she shrieked, and she kissed him hard in front of everyone. They broke apart and Ron turned to see both McLaggen and Krum watching them and looking disgruntled, and Ron stuck his tongue out at them and went back to kissing Hermione, and the sound of the crowd got dimmer and further away as they kissed on and on…he could taste her mint toothpaste on her tongue…

He opened his eyes and he was in his room at the Burrow, and Hermione was there. Ron sighed as she pulled him onto the bed on top of her. She tugged at his clothes…

'I love you,' she whispered, gazing up at him with lust-darkened eyes.

'I love you, too,' he murmured, pulling at the jumper, but she shook her head.

'I have a surprise for you,' she whispered. 'You played so magnificently today…just sit…'

He did, and he wondered what she was up to as she got up and went over to switch on the wireless. It was a jazzy, slow sort of tune with a heavy beat—he had no idea who the singer was. Hermione picked up her wand and pointed it at herself and with a soft whoosh…

'Bloody hell,' Ron groaned. All the blood in his body raced below his belt.

She was wearing…he didn't know what the hell it was called but it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. Black and lacy and the sort of thing he'd only seen witches wear in Fred and George's skin magazines. She had on stockings, too, and very high heels that made her legs look long and shapely. The tops of her breasts peeked out from the bodice of whatever she was wearing. It was hardly the sort of thing he ever expected to see her wear, and yet when he looked at her, her hair was wild as ever and she hadn't put on any weird make-up. She looked exactly like herself. Beautiful and sexy and god did he want her.

'Lie back,' she whispered, and he obeyed, because you don't say no to a girl wearing little black lacy things.

She leaned over him and bestowed upon him the single juiciest, sexiest, horniest kiss he'd ever received in his entire life. Her mouth was plush and sweet and wet, like a ripe summer peach, and her tongue slid along his in a way that told him he was in for a very, very good night.

She leaned back and smiled at him, and then began to undress him slowly, pausing here and there to nip at various parts of his upper body. By the time he was fully naked he was in a rather desperate state; he'd heard of blokes getting brain damage from having to endure a prolonged erection, and Hermione was taking her time, teasing him and torturing him with her hands…

Then again, he couldn't help but love the anticipation of it, or the way she gazed at him with a naked sort of lust he'd never seen before. She was so hot, he thought. He hoped when they got down to the main course she would leave that little black lacy thing on…

Now she was kissing him all over. All over. Ron's eyes rolled back into his head, and he wondered if he might die, and decided he didn't bloody well care if he did. That peachy little mouth of hers was…oh god…

She moved back up and smiled down at him before sliding on top of him.

'I love you,' she whispered, nibbling on his lower lip before kissing him again. 'I want only you.'

Ron couldn't take it anymore; he kissed her hard and rolled her over and suddenly he was right there, and they were going at it like minks or rabbits or whatever, he couldn't think, everything was too hot and too crazy and too brilliant…he shifted and went to grab one of her ankles and realized she'd left her stockings and—yes!—the shoes, too, good lord that was hot…And then she started growling things in his ear, very dirty, sexy things—Ron was quite sure she called him a 'stallion' at one point—and then it was over but for the sweating and the panting and a feeling of bliss so complete he thought maybe he had in fact died after all.

He smiled and opened his eyes and saw…red curtains.

Damn.

The daydream had ended and so had…oops. What a mess.

Ron gave his wand a quick wave to deal with that little issue, but he didn't feel embarrassed. In fact, he felt really damn good. In fact, he decided that Fred and George were absolute geniuses, because they had invented a product that provided all the pleasures of wanking with none of the work. Brilliant!

Ron grinned to himself as the delicious image of Hermione, all wild hair and doe-brown eyes, wearing a slinky, lacy black whatever, filled his mind, and he made a mental note to buy a dozen more Daydream Charms.