InsaneJournal

Hermione's Advice - R/Hr - NC-17
Title: Hermione's Advice
Author: shocfix
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ron/Hermione
Summary: Ron is pretty sure that they have come to some sort of unspoken understanding.
Words: 5000

Written for smutty_clause, the wonderful msmoocow, who needed some Ron/Hermione first time!

Betaed by the magnificence of magicofisis.


Hermione's Advice
We seemed to have come to some sort of unspoken understanding.

I think.

Of course, Hermione is a very complicated person, and I wasn't sure I'd understood things the same way that she had.

I understood things between us to be on hold, while we went with Harry to find the Horcruxes, but I certainly didn't expect to have to make any soppy declarations, when the time came.

I just reckoned that Hermione would inform me when things were no longer on hold, and then I'd dive, face first, into her cleavage.

OK.

Not literally.

And I wouldn't have the nerve, anyway.

I just mean that I wouldn’t have to court her, or anything embarrassing.

She knows me better than anyone; she couldn't be so cruel.

Why would she want to watch me humiliate myself, like that?

OK, she might want to pay me back for the whole Lavender thing, and I fully expected to pay for that for the rest of my life, but I'd certainly rather do it by reciting love poems to her in front of the twins, than by watching her snogging someone else for weeks and weeks.

But Hermione isn't like that.

I mean, I do know that she’s a girl, but she wouldn't put me through hoops like that.

She knows how I feel about her; I don't have to tell her.

Do I?

Oh god, what if I do?

She'd tell me what to say, wouldn't she?

Oh, this isn’t fair.

What if she thinks we're on hold until I tell her otherwise?

She wouldn't leave something so important up to me, would she?

I wish I could ask someone for advice.

This is the sort of thing you go to your best friend for, so I’m buggered.

I can't ask Harry; Harry doesn't actually ask girls out, as far as I can tell.

He goes straight to the kissing.

OK, so Cho kissed him.

But I watched him and Ginny get together, and it consisted of one kiss that I'd have broken up, if I hadn't known Ginny would kill me and throw my public displays of affection with Lavender in my face.

And then he gave me this look like a puppy who'd peed on my slippers, asking for my blessing, which was the just about the cutest thing I've ever seen, but I'm not gonna tell him that.

And then he nodded at the portrait hole, and off they went.

He didn't say a word, the bastard.

And Hermione thought it was the most romantic thing ever, and she beamed at me all through the rest of the party.

So, maybe I could get away with the kissing-and-no-talking caveman bit, too.

I wish I could ask someone for advice.

I wish I could ask Hermione.

She's my best friend, too, and she's a girl, and she'd know what girls expect.

I wish I could ask her; she's always helped me out with complicated stuff.

Would it be breaking the unspoken understanding thing, to just go to her for advice?

She usually loves that.

@->-->-----

Just the thought of her eyes sparkling as she told me what to do was enough to distract me for the rest of the day.

By the time she and Harry arrived at the Burrow, I had decided what to do.

I would ask Harry for advice about asking Hermione for advice.

And then I'd ask Hermione if asking her for advice was the same thing as breaking the unspoken understanding thing, or if it was actually just best friend stuff.

I casually followed Harry upstairs to my room and leant against the door.

"Can I ask your advice about something?" I asked.

He sat on my bed and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you wank too much," he said.

"Well, aren't you a help?" I snorted.

"Sorry," he said, not looking in the least bit sorry.

"Look," I said, sitting down beside him. "Best mate advice, right?"

"Course," he said, looking confused.

"It's about… um… girls," I said.

He shook his head. "I don't want to know stuff about Hermione," he said swiftly.

"What stuff?" I asked.

He made a breasts shaped gesture and looked flustered. "Just… anything you wouldn't want to know about Ginny," he said finally.

I snorted. "At least there are things I don't know about Ginny," I pointed out. "There isn't anything you don't know about Hermione."

"How would I know stuff like that about Hermione?" he huffed. "You know I'd never…"

"No, no, no," I interrupted. "I don't mean that you know stuff about Hermione; I mean that there isn't any stuff about Hermione that you don't know."

He looked baffled.

"I haven't done anything with Hermione that you wouldn't want to know about," I explained.

He didn't look much less baffled.

"Anyway," I said. "Here's the thing. I think that Hermione and I are on hold, while all this quest stuff goes on, but I'm not sure."

"Well, how would I know?" he asked.

"No, I'm not asking for your advice about that," I said.

"OK," he said slowly.

"And I hope that I don't have to actually court her, and stuff, when the time arrives."

"Well, I don't know what she expects," he protested.

"I wouldn't expect you to."

"Wake me up when you get to the point, will you?" he said, flopping back on the bed.

"Look," I said. "Here's the thing. I need to go to my best friend and say 'I need advice about what this girl I'm crazy about expects from me'."

Harry blinked at me and opened his mouth.

"Not you," I added. "I need to go to Hermione for advice. What d'you think of that? What should I do?"

He didn't blink for rather a long time.

"Well?" I prompted.

"You want to ask Hermione's advice," he said.

"Yeah."

"About this girl you adore, and whether she expects you to ask her out."

"Advice as my friend, yeah."

"And you're asking me if this is a good plan."

"Basically, yeah."

He shook himself, like a dog coming out of the water. "Do you have any idea how many ways you can mess that up?" he asked.

"I'll make it perfectly clear that I'm asking for her advice as my friend, and that I’m not breaking any unspoken agreements about telling her how I feel, or anything," I said seriously.

Harry flailed.

I'd never seen anyone flail before.

"I know you'll cock this up," he said finally.

"How?" I demanded, rather hurt by his lack of faith in me.

"Are you asking 'How do I know you'll cock it up?' or 'How will you make an arse of yourself?'" he said.

"Both," I huffed.

"Well, firstly, because I know how useless you were last year, with the whole Lavender thing. And secondly, I know what you'll say."

"What?"

"You'll think it sounds clever not to mention the name of the girl you're crazy about, and she'll get the wrong end of the stick and think it's someone else."

"No, she won't," I scoffed. "She's too clever for that. And, anyway, I'll make it clear that it's her name I'm not mentioning."

"Oh, dear god," he muttered.

"What?"

"It's not enough that we're actually at war, with Death Eaters, and stuff, you're gonna stick me in the middle of World War Three."

I glared at him.

"D'you want me to ask her?" he asked heavily.

"What?" I said again.

"Well, I can mention names," he said. "I can just say 'are you and Ron on hold? Is he supposed to ask you out? When is he supposed to ask you out?'"

"No!" I complained. "It has to be me; I don't want her to think I'm a coward and I've put you up to it."

"Right," he said. "Well. Who d'you want to have your stuff, when she kills you? Ginny will want your broom."

"You really don't think it's a good idea?" I said.

"I think that getting things straight between the two of you, and preferably in writing, is an excellent idea," he said seriously. "But I think adding seven layers of mystery to the conversation is asking for trouble."

I pouted. "I have to ask her," I said. "We can't go off, the three of us, with this all mixed up."

"Well, good luck," he said. "Shall I send her up here?"

"Here?" I echoed.

"Yeah," he said, getting up off my bed.

"Now?" I squeaked, gazing up at him.

"No time like the present," he said firmly, patting me on the back.

So, I waited for her.

In my bedroom.

On my bed.

Maybe not such a good idea, because the fantasies I'd had about Hermione in that bed were chasing through my head and I was scared I'd just shout out something humiliating when she came through the door.

She gently knocked and came in when I croaked something in reply.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed and she was a bit out of breath. I used to feel put upon, having my room at the top of the house, and my dorm at the top of the tower, but not once I realised how much I enjoyed Hermione being a bit out of breath.

"You… wanted to ask me something," she said.

"Yes," I said nervously. "Look, sit down."

She perched on my bed.

Which helped, strangely enough.

Helped me focus.

That is what I wanted, wasn't it?

Hermione on my bed.

However you – and by that, I mean my mum – dress it up in romantic walks and moonlight and flowers and weddings and crap.

I wanted her on my bed.

"Right," I said firmly. "First of all, please don't get angry or take what I'm gonna say the wrong way or anything. I promise I haven't messed everything up again, and I never, ever will, if you just give me a chance to finish what I have to say. And then, um, let me explain any bits that make you angry."

She nodded. "Alright," she said slowly.

"Alright," I echoed. "The thing is, I need your advice."

"You do?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I always need your advice on complicated stuff, right? You're my best friend, and I know you always look out for me, and I need your advice on something really, really important."

"OK," she said.

"So, is it OK if I ask for advice about a girl?" I asked.

"A girl?" she echoed.

"There's this girl," I said and her eyes narrowed. "Hear me out, Hermione. There's this girl, that I have been crazy about, forever. And I really, really messed things up with her, for a long time; but now things are OK, again. More than OK. Really good. And I reckon we understand each other. And that we'll be together. Someday. Because we both feel, um, the same… yeah, well, anyway.

"I think we have an unspoken understanding between us, and that, when the time is right, we'll be together, um, just like that. But what if she thinks that when the time is right, I am supposed to court her and tell her I love her and buy her flowers, and stuff like that? I don't want to get things wrong, again."

"So, what are you asking me?" she said faintly.

"What I just said," I explained. "Will she expect to be courted, or will we just snap together?"

She sighed and shook her head. "You really are hard work, Ron Weasley," she complained.

"I haven't made you angry again, have I?" I panicked.

She took my hand. "No. No, your eloquent warning was sufficient."

"Good," I said, lacing my fingers with hers. "So, what d'you think?"

"What is my advice, as your friend?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"About this girl?"

"Yeah."

"And what she wants you to do?"

"Yeah."

"I think," she said. "That you have both suffered enough, and that she won't expect 'flowers and stuff', when the time is right."

"Excellent," I crowed. "I knew she wouldn't put me through hoops like that."

"Though courtship doesn't end once you 'snap together'," she pointed out. "And saying 'I love you' can never hurt."

I laughed nervously.

"Ron?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"I think that the time is right."

I blinked at her.

She couldn't possibly mean what I thought she meant.

She was sitting on my bed, holding my hand, and implying that we should 'snap together'.

"It is?" I squeaked.

She rolled her eyes. "You are impossible," she murmured, leaning closer and kissing me.

I am an even bigger idiot than I thought.

I could have been doing this last year, years ago.

I brought my hands up and buried them in her insane hair and I moaned into her mouth.

I cannot tell you how much I adore her hair; it's like even her mind isn't large enough to hold all her thoughts, and they just swarm out, through her hair, and it's alive.

She sat back, both of her hands resting on my chest, and looked up at me, biting her lip.

I felt my magic crackling uncontrollably inside me, like it hadn’t since I was small and angry at the twins and doing spontaneous magic on a daily basis.

I swallowed hard and tried to rein it in, before it could do some damage. Harry loves the story of making the glass at the zoo disappear, trapping his cousin with the snakes, but Bill still cringes at the memory of his first kiss, and how he spontaneously Banished her blouse.

I was sure that my magic wanted Hermione naked as much as I did, and I struggled to keep it under control.

"So," Hermione said. "No more misunderstandings."

"No," I said, grinning like an idiot.

She smiled back. "Repeat after me," she said. " No more misunderstandings."

"No more misunderstandings," I echoed.

"We're together."

"We're together."

"I am your girlfriend."

"I am your girlfriend." She gave me a very pointed look. "Boyfriend."

She laughed.

"Can I kiss you again?" I begged.

"You don't have to ask," she whispered.

Her arms slid up and round my neck and mine to her waist and I bent and kissed her.

For rather a long time.

She hummed happily into my mouth and I stood up and pulled her to her feet.

"What?" she asked.

"I am just so fucking happy," I said, picking her up and spinning her round.

She giggled.

"What else can I do without begging?" I asked, leaning down and stealing another kiss.

"What d'you have in mind?" she asked.

"Hermione," I groaned. "That is a dangerous question."

"Why?" she said. "No more misunderstandings, right?"

I took a step back, sat on the edge of my bed and pulled her to stand between my knees, my hands at her waist, my thumbs inching under her shirt and stroking soft skin.

"Hermione, we're kissing, in my bedroom," I said. "What d'you think I have in mind?"

She moved closer, her hands running through my hair and settling at the back of my neck.

"And you think I don't fantasise about things like that?" she whispered.

I let my head fall forward, intending to complain that she wasn't allowed to mention 'things like that', but was distracted when my face met breasts.

"I'm sorry," I gasped, pulling back, but her hand tangled in my hair and pulled me against her.

"Another thing you're allowed to do," she said.

"Really?" I asked.

She nodded, flushing beautifully.

"Brilliant," I groaned, and slid my hands up, inside her shirt, cupping her breasts and mouthing at them, through the thin white cotton.

After spending years trying to catch a glimpse of those breasts, I was finally caressing them, my thumbs brushing over her nipples, her shirt darkening as I suckled and clinging to them.

"Having fun?" she asked, eventually.

"Hmmmm," I hummed against a nipple.

"So, what am I allowed to do?" she asked.

I stilled and tore my mouth away from her breasts.

"Anything," I breathed.

She bit her lip and slid her hand down my chest. I stopped breathing as it passed my belt and whimpered as her fingers curled around my erection.

"Hermione," I squeaked. "You can't…"

"Don't you want me to?" she asked, in a small voice, pulling her hand away.

"Fuck, yes," I moaned, grabbing her hand and pressing it against my cock, before realising what I was doing and dropping it and apologising.

She looked at me, with a rather calculating look on her face.

"Ron," she said, "seriously. Do you want us to… go to bed, together?"

I gaped at her.

"Well, y-yes, of course, eventually," I stammered.

"But not now?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Well, yes, of course, now," I spluttered. "But I'm not allowed to say things like that."

"No more misunderstandings, right?" she said.

"Yes, I want to," I said. "Of course I do! I have since we were fourteen."

I blushed.

"Me too," she said, stepping closer and kissing the corner of my mouth as I gawped at her.

"You're really not supposed to say things like that, Hermione," I murmured.

"Why not?" she asked, unbuttoning my shirt as she kissed me.

I didn't have time to boggle at her multi-tasking skills, because I was too busy boggling at the things she was saying.

"I… I don't know what to do," I whined.

"What?" she asked, pushing my shirt off my shoulders.

"I needed you to tell me when we were together," I complained. "And I really need you to be the one who knows how far we're supposed to go."

"Why?" she asked, pushing me back on the bed.

"I'm supposed to be able to relax and try and ravish you," I explained. "While you have to concentrate and stop me before we go too far."

"That's hardly fair," she protested, undoing my belt.

"I really can't be the responsible one, Hermione," I moaned, automatically lifting my arse as she pulled my trousers down.

She stood there, glaring, with her hands on her hips.

I blinked up at her.

I was lying there, in just a pair of bright orange boxers, that barely covered a throbbing erection.

The woman of my dreams was standing over me, her hair wild from my hands, her shirt clinging damply to her breasts.

"I didn't say I wanted you to be the responsible one," she pointed out. "I said I wanted to go to bed with you, and I have stripped your clothes off. Why are you fighting me?"

"Because I want to take care of you," I complained, sitting up. "And not in a phwoaw way. Well, no, yes in a phwoaw way, but in a… a how I'd expect a bloke to treat my best friend way, too."

She sat beside me and took my hand again, resting our clasped hands on my naked thigh.

I gulped.

"Ron, you always take care of me," she said. "And, as long as you haven't been paying too much attention to anything the legendary Seamus Finnigan says, I want you to take care of me in a phwoaw way, too."

"Really?"

"Really."

"But… why? Why me?" I said pitifully.

"Because I love you," she said softly and my heart caught in my throat.

"Oh," I choked. "It… I… you're right. Saying it sounds really good."

"And?" she prompted.

"I love you, too," I said. "So much. And I don't want to mess this up, remember?"

The hand that wasn't an inch from my trapped cock came up and touched my cheek, before settling on my bare chest.

"There is nothing to mess up, Ron," she said and I squeaked and gestured to her fingers, running over my skin.

"Ron, there are no signals you could mis-read; I could have left you dithering for weeks and wondering if you are allowed to do this, but I haven't. I have ripped your clothes off."

"But why?"

"Well, there's no other man I've ever wanted to see naked," she said, her cheeks flushing.

"Wow," I gulped. "You, too. Woman, I mean. You're a woman, obviously. And, OK, I have wanted to see other girls naked, but just, you know, in general, I've not wanted to see their faces, too."

She bit her lip.

"There," she said. "Only I would know that that is a compliment; you're stuck with me."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Hermione," I said, picking up her hand and kissing her knuckles. "I am desperately in love with you, and I want you so much I think I am about to explode, and please give me the benefit of the doubt here, because it is not going to be perfect, OK?"

Hermione smiled. "See?" she said. "You couldn't admit that to some tart, could you?"

I choked.

She giggled and reached for her wand to cast a wobbly Contraceptus.

We were really going to do it.

"Maybe I could, um, help you explode, first?" she offered.

"What? Why?"

"Because then you'd last longer, second time round," she said, flushing.

"Hermione!" I gasped. "How d'you know something like… you've been reading about it, haven't you?"

"Of course," she said.

"You've been reading about…"

"Sex," she said.

"That's just…. that's," I gazed at her. "Ridiculously hot, actually."

She rolled her eyes, fondly.

"So," I said, leaning back on my elbows. "How should we proceed?"

We both looked at the bulge in my boxers.

"Would it be alright if I… touched you?" she asked.

"That could be just about the most alright thing in my entire life, yes," I babbled.

I slid my boxers over my hips and down my legs and kicked them away and lay there, feeling rather vulnerable but more turned on than ever before.

Hermione was biting her lip and staring at my cock.

Hermione.

Was staring at my cock.

Was reaching out her hand and wrapping her fingers carefully around it.

Was concentrating as only Hermione can on getting it just right and succeeding in an embarassingly short time, which we will put down to her brilliance, and not my patheticness.

I lay and gasped and tried to blink her back into focus.

She was frowning at the come splattered across my belly and I felt coarse and disgusting… and her fingers trailing through it.

"Hermione," I gasped and her eyes flew to mine and she blushed.

Blushed.

With my come on her fingers.

"Oh, Hermione," I breathed, reaching for her.

She fell into my arms and I kissed her, still shaking from my climax and utterly desperate to touch her.

"Can I really?" I murmured against her throat, pressing her back onto my bed and leaning over her.

"Ron, please," she whispered.

I managed to clumsily unbutton her shirt as I kissed my way down her neck, my lips meeting my fingers on her bared breasts, and I wallowed in being allowed such access to them.

They were perfect; made to fill my hands, with pale, pink nipples that hardened against my tongue.

Her hands were petting my hair and she was making wonderful noises and murmuring my name and I had to kiss her, again.

I buried one hand in her hair, as we kissed, and let the other wander down her body, to the button of her jeans.

"Really?" I asked.

"It's my turn, isn't it?" she said breathelessly and I moaned as she helped me unzip them.

My hand settled on her belly, my fingertips just under the elastic of her knickers.

"Show me?" I asked.

"What?"

"I don't know what to do," I said.

"Oh," she said, biting her lip. "Right, OK."

She sat up and wriggled out of clothes and lay back.

On my bed.

Naked.

"Oh, dear god," I murmured, covering her with my body as I slid my hand round her waist and held her against me and kissed her like I was drowning. "This.. oh, god, Hermione, this… always wanted, you…"

She slid her hand between us and I reared back, watching her fingers dissapear between her thighs.

My eyes flickered between her fingers and her face, not wanting to miss a second of this miracle.

"Give me your hand, Ron," she whispered and I squeaked.

I slid my hand under hers and she steered it through her folds and she was hot and wet and I had no idea what I was feeling for and she pressed my fingers hard against her and buried her face in my neck as she rubbed herself against them.

And I held her tight as she arched against me, whimpering and panting heavily.

Then she clamped her thighs around my hand and lay still, her head tipped back, her skin flushed, her eyes locked on mine.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," I said.

She reached for me and pulled me down to kiss her, and her fingers were in my hair and they were wet with her juices and I could smell it and I was grinding my cock against her thigh and moaning into her mouth.

"Hermione, now, please, can we?" I gasped.

She nodded and I moved over her.

She parted her legs and I knelt between them and moved slowly back and forth, rubbing myself against her wetness.

She reached between us and grasped my cock, holding it in what I assume was the right place, and I pushed forward.

I nearly died from the feeling of her body surrounding me, and from the sad noise she made as I pressed into her.

"I hurt you?" I asked, trembling from the effort to keep still.

"A bit, it's OK."

"It isn't!"

She reached up and touched my face and I caught her hand in mine and turned to kiss her fingers.

"I love you," she whispered .

"I really love you, Hermione, I really do," I babbled. "Can I… we…"

"Move," she said. "Really."

Entwining our fingers, I rested our hands beside her head and shifted my weight abover her, sliding deeper inside her body.

"Oh, fuck," I gasped.

"Oh, yes," she said.

"It's amazing," I whispered, withdrawing and surging back inside her. "Oh, god, Hermione."

I was shaking and she was gazing up at me, wide-eyed, and I knew I wasn't going to last, even with her helpful hand-job.

"It's too much, Hermione," I panted. "I can't stop…"

"Then don't," she whispered and I swore colourfully as I emptied my heart and soul and balls into her.

I took my weight on my elbows as I dropped kisses over her face and neck.

"Amazing," I muttered into her hair, trying to catch my breath.

She wriggled beneath me and I gasped as I slid out of her and lay by her side.

"Wasn't amazing for you, was it?" I asked, smoothing her hair out of her face.

"Was," she insisted.

I snorted.

"Ron, it was amazing: you were inside me; I made you lose control. Without arguing with you."

I propped myself up on an elbow and watched as my free hand ran down Hermione's body.

"Y'know what," I said. "Much as I love you and Harry, sometimes it can be a real pain in the arse, the three of us."

"How?" she asked.

"Fred and George tell each other every last detail of their conquests," I said. "And I couldn't be closer to Harry, and I want to be able to tell him all about my girl. But he really wouldn't want to listen."

"It's the same for me," she pointed out.

"You'd tell Harry all about your bloke?" I asked.

She shrugged one shoulder. "Well, not in gory detail," she admitted. "But I'd tell Ginny. We'd love to be able to compare every detail about our blokes. But I don't want to know about Harry's details, and she really doesn't want to know about yours."

I blinked at her.

"Every detail?" I croaked.

"You have an alternative, you know," she said, ignoring me.

"I do?"

"You have another best friend; one who won't get all squeamish about your sex life."

"That's brilliant," I said and she laughed up at me.

"Of course," she said modestly.

"Oh, Hermione, you're not gonna believe it!" I gushed. "I did it; I finally told Hermione how I felt about her, and it was brilliant, and she feels the same way, and then, oh my god, I kissed her, and she tastes fantastic, and she let me put my hand up her shirt, and fuck, she has brilliant breasts, and then we did it, really, really, me inside her, did it, and it was fantastic!"

Hermione laughed.

"You can tell your best friend all about your first time, too," I said. "If you like."

She rolled her eyes.

"Ron, you're not gonna believe it," she said. "After waiting for four years, Ron finally managed to talk himself round in such circles that he was completely stuck, and I had to say it for him, and then I kissed him, and then I told him to touch my chest, and then I stripped him naked and told him it was OK if we did it, and we did it, really, really, him inside me, did it, and it will be fantastic, with a bit more practise."

"Hey!" I protested.

"Would you rather I told Ginny?" she asked.

I glared at her.

"Was that really what it was like, for you?" I asked pitifully.

"Oh, Ron," she said, touching my face and looking a bit guilty. "I'm teasing. Mainly. It really was wonderful, but I do think my observations were a bit more accurate."

"You hopeless romantic," I complained. "Anyway, I can't have done too badly. My plan worked; we're together."

"Your plan?"

"To ask you for advice."

She bit her lip.

"What?"

"Your plan was insane," she said.

"But you understood it," I pointed out.

"Ron, if I'd walked into that conversation without warning, I would have been hopelessly confused, and probably more than a little angry."

"What d'you mean 'without warning'?"

"Harry," she said simply.

"Harry?"

"Told me you were going to ask my advice about asking me out, and that I mustn't get angry, because he promised it was all about me, no matter how insane you sounded."

I boggled at her. "The bastard," I gasped.

"That bastard got us here, naked and sweaty," she pointed out. "You'll have to thank him."