We don't tell each other about our sex lives with our friends. The built-up randiness is killing me. And Ginny. She hasn't even had a chance to use that vibrator she got. James and Albus takes up her every waking moment. And I'd know, because it's very loud," he added, eyes narrowing a bit as he regarded her. You can hear it throughout the whole house. Hermione screamed in disgust, throwing her stack of parchments on the table. Because this was clearly war. She leveled an impressive glare on him for a moment before the fire in her eyes dampened to something calculating and smug.
She continued to speak under them, and he was pretty sure he heard 'pubic' in there somewhere.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I take it back. She doesn't even have one, I swear. There's only you and Ron, and Ron will only do it if you do it with him. Nothing will happen," he beseeched her.
It was an awful thing to do. Damn him. Damn that George straight to the fiery abyss," he added, almost plaintively, as he grew increasingly desperate. He widened his eyes a bit, putting a bit of a pout on. Slowly, his hands returned to their clasped position as he silently entreated her unimpressed glare. But, as always, Hermione felt her stubborn nature crack under the force of his pleading. There was little Harry could ask for that she could refuse; some people assumed it was the war that made them like that, but their old schoolmates recalled often that they'd always been like that with each other — almost like long-lost twins finding each other after eleven years away.
They'd stuck their necks out for each other well beyond the normal range of mere friendship. Her breath left her in a gusty, annoyed sigh. Harry's grin flashed. And kind, and wonderful. And so pretty when you're scowling. She brushed at his jumper, earning a blinking glance, and explained, "Scone crumbs. Ron flashed her that easy, humorous smile she'd fallen slowly in love with over the years. It didn't make her stomach flip anymore, but then, she rather thought the fireworks of early love were overrated, anyhow.
Everyone always suggested that people should 'marry their best friend,' after all. Lives tended to stretch a lot longer than actual romances. As soon as they entered, Ginny was running down a list of things Ron was not to do, making the ginger-haired man groan in agony. And Hermione's here, anyway, to keep me from being dumb, remember? Ginny shot him a wary glare and turned to Hermione.
No broom flying, no levitating, no sweets before dinner, and don't let him swear in front of them. James has said nothing but 'bloody' this and 'bloody' that since the last time Ron watched him," she complained. Harry began ushering her to the fireplace. Before following, he muttered, "And I aim to make the best of it.
Ron groaned in disgust, pulling a face. She could be eight children in and I'd still be of the opinion they were conceived immaculately.
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No boring Muggle facts in front of my nephews," Ron warned her. At her indignant squawk, he grinned, the corners of his eyes creasing as he crowded her space all of a sudden and planted a kiss — soft, and warm, and familiar — before releasing her and heading towards James' room upstairs. Six hours later, Harry and Ginny slunk in through the Floo with their hands intertwined, their hair a mess, and sleepy-contented smiles on their face.
Ron glared at them, lips pursed, from the couch. Hermione grinned, her heart feeling full — full of this moment. Her friends, and her boyfriend. She felt happy, and she immediately felt herself beginning to analyze that happiness, and tried to stop the process before she chased it away. Pushing to her feet, she grabbed Ron's hand. Laughing, she bid her goodbyes to her friends and pulled him into the Floo, to her place.
Somehow, she managed to make him set aside his residual feelings of disgust for the evening, and they spent a good hour doing just what Ron imagined Ginny never did. Unusually, though, Ron was awake and watching her. Jolting a bit at the realization, Hermione blinked at him, awkwardly smiling at the serious look on his face. It is early, isn't it? What time is it He looked like he wanted to say something else, but couldn't find the words to get it out.
After a few moments of trying, he gave up, looking strangely defeated and a little sad. He struggled a bit more, and finally settled on, "Do you ever think about why we never moved in together? They'd started up right after the war ended with them as victors, but Hermione had gotten cold feet, and had broken things off before they really started.
She'd gone to university for a time after getting her parents back — a magical university, in Barcelona, Spain. They'd written to each other plenty, as did she and Harry and Ginny, but it had just been as friends. When she'd come back, sporting a tan and feeling a lot freer than she had in a while, the relationship seemed to already be in place, sparking off right where they'd left things off.
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It had been explosive in that good way , and full of laughter. She shifted on the bed, pulling the sheets around her a bit, fiddling. She'd guessed he had, but she was so particular about her personal space. After leaving the dorms of university, she'd sworn never to have a flatmate again. His mouth pulled in that crooked smile. And not the time we spend together, because obviously I wouldn't trade that for anything else in the whole world," he continued. He winced.
But can you honestly tell me you don't feel it, sometimes? Like maybe we're just together because it's Because we expected to be, and so did everyone else? We know all the words to each other by heart, by now. I'd reckon I even know you better than Harry does, and up until a year ago I didn't think it was even possible to know you better than Harry does. Then, he sobered, his brown eyes finding hers again. She swallowed again, her throat feeling strangely raw. She couldn't exactly refute what he was saying, and the fact that he was saying it meant he probably felt similarly, but it still hurt to think of possibly letting this relationship go.
His smile was wry, a little twisted by some inner guilt, and she closed her eyes as she let it sink in.
She'd been so full of herself, then, hadn't she? Thinking that he'd been over the moon for her, letting herself play a little bit the martyr in continuing the relationship even though it wasn't exactly exciting or adventurous or even all that romantic. But in reality, he'd been in the same boat, wondering how to navigate the feelings they'd had for each other as teenagers that had failed to mature along with them.
Her inhale was shaky, and his arms suddenly flew around her. Luckily, she and Ron are already planning to obey the horrific law together as a team Until a Malfoy-shaped wrench gets thrown into the works.
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