To the Moon and Back

Chapter One

"What are you thinking about?" I asked as I twisted a particularly long strand of my boyfriend's red hair around my index finger.

"You," Ron answered. I smiled and placed my hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

"You always say that," I responded, grinning against his lips.

"Then why do you keep asking?" Ron asked with a smirk. He pulled away as I rolled my brown eyes and pulled my legs underneath me and crossed them Indian style before pulling out a new roll of parchment for my Arithmancy essay. I could feel Ron's eyes on me as I wrote. I knew that he enjoyed observing me and my little habits. I stopped myself right as I was about to put my quill in my mouth, a tendency that he enjoyed pointing out. After a few moments, I looked up from my paper at my boyfriend.

"What, Ron?" Ron simply grinned before virtually lunging toward me and attacking my lips with his in a fiercely passionate kiss. All rational thought flew from my brain as my Numerolgy and Gramatica text fell from my lap and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled my blouse out of my school skirt and placed his hands right above the waistband of my school skirt. His warm fingers traveled upward, venturing beneath the white cotton of my shirt, toward my bra, stopping just shy of the underwire.

His bruising grip on my breasts earned him a scream of pain.

Ron broke the kiss and brought his hands out from beneath my shirt and began to unbutton it from the bottom. He slipped it off of my shoulders, leaving me in only my pink lace bra and my school skirt. He shifted his body and pulled me so that I was lying under him on the sofa. He kissed me again, but did not linger on my lips. His mouth moved down my jawline and my neck, kissing and sucking, leaving trails of fire on my skin. As Ron's fingers traced the curves of my hips and dipped beneath the waistband of my skirt, my heart began to beat faster. His fingers deftly began to unbutton my skirt. I gasped as the memories came flooding back.

"Baby, I just want to love you. Let me love you."

"Ron," I breathed, but I was ignored.

"It's okay, I won't hurt you."

"Ron." I tried again, louder this time, but still he continued. His fingers wrapped around the elastic of my knickers and I gasped in shock and grabbed at his wrists, my heart was racing and my breathing becoming erratic, inching toward hyperventilation.

Touching, groping, violating. No way to stop it.

"Stop it!" I screamed, shoving Ron onto the floor. Ron looked up at me, his expression indignant until he saw the tears that I was trying to hold back in vain. When he noticed my emotional instability, he climbed back on the couch and tried to put his arm around me.

"Hey, are you all right?"

"Don't touch me right now." I said softly, pushing him away. Ron's face fell and he put a few inches between us. It was quiet for a minute or so and I couldn't deal with Ron's inquisitive stare. "I told you to stop." I whispered. His face displayed several different emotions in the next four seconds. Confusion, incredulity, anger and finally, amusement.

"Is that what this is about? Again?" Ron asked with a derisive chuckle. My nostrils flared as I looked away and tried to control my jumble of emotions. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, but the other part just wanted to keep everything a secret forever.

"Yes, Ronald, again!" Sometimes he just made me so frustrated that I couldn't deal with it. It's not like I didn't want to do more with him. It's just that I…couldn't.

"What is your problem?" Ron demanded.

"I just have some…issues." I responded, not meeting his eyes. I heard him sighing in exasperation and I sneaked a glance toward him. He ran his hand through his hair, something he always did when this happened.

"Your only issue is that you're a prude." Ron grumbled. I had a hard time picking my jaw up off of the floor at that comment. His face registered shock, as though he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"What?" I growled, after I had pulled myself together. Had he honestly said that? Did he really feel that way? What the hell? It took almost all of my energy to keep myself from slapping him, so instead I clenched my fists and held my arms at my sides.

"I didn't mean to say—I mean, I don't—I'm sorry!" Ron stammered pathetically. If I wasn't so distraught I probably would have laughed at the expression on his face.

"Is that really how you feel Ron?" I said, deathly calm. "Am I not enough for you? Because if not, there's the door." I pointed toward the portrait hole, my face stony and unrelenting. Ron glanced toward the portrait and back at my face a few times, as though he couldn't decide what to do, or what was the best decision.

"I'm sorry, Hermione." Ron said, hanging his head. "It's just that you make things all hot and then you just snatch it away. It's really…frustrating." I raised my eyebrow skeptically and crossed my arms.

"Oh really?" Ron nodded before continuing.

"It's just that when I was with Lavender—,"

"What the fuck, Ron?" I shouted, interrupting him. Ron looked stunned at my outburst. "You are in a relationship with me right now, and I am not concerned about whatever it was that you did when you were dating Lavender. You aren't dating her anymore so whatever went down with you two isn't of any importance whatsoever. Don't compare me to Lavender!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione." By this time I was furious. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"I think you should leave, Ron." I said softly.

"What?"

"Please just go," I said, pointing at the portrait again. Ron didn't speak but he attempted to kiss my lips. I turned my face from him and shook my head. He sighed and headed toward the door, glancing once over his shoulder before exiting.

After Ron left, I sat on the couch and hugged one of the embroidered throw pillows as I let my tears fall.

"I promised myself that I wouldn't let my past affect the present." I whispered to myself. "Why did you have to make everything so complicated?" I shouted to the air.

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity." I looked up at the sound of the voice to see Draco Malfoy leaning in the doorway of the portrait hole.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" I snarled, turning my face so he wouldn't see my tears.

"What's Weasel's problem?" He asked, ignoring my question. I pursed my lips and risked turning to face him. Mistake. "Oh, I see. He's still not getting any action." Before he had time to blink I was in his face with my wand jabbing into his groin. I looked up at him and scowled, every negative emotion was rushing through me. Pain, hatred, anger, frustration.

"Are you sure you want to continue this conversation?" I growled. "Because I know thirty-seven different spells that can make it so that you aren't getting any either." I heard Malfoy's breath hitch ever so slightly and I smirked in satisfaction.

"Fine, I'm done." Malfoy sneered, trying to mask his panic. "Remove your wand from the goods." Reluctantly I pocketed my wand. Once Draco was sure that my wand was a safe distance from his groin, he pushed past me and stormed off to his bedroom.