InsaneJournal

Ron Makes The First Move - for belovedranger - Ron/Hermione - NC-17
Title : Ron Makes The First Move
For : belovedranger
Pairing : Ron/Hermione
Prompt : pyjama bottoms : ) for me!
Words : 1040
Rating : NC-17


Right, Ronald Weasley.

That is it.

We've been hunting for Horcruxes for six months, and the three of us are together, night and day.

Sometimes literally, if we can't find somewhere more civilised to sleep, in time.

Sometimes, as now, at Grimmauld Place, just until they hug me goodnight, and go up to their rooms.

And I try and read just one more page about the Founders, without being distracted.

Distracted.

By the fact that their hugs are identical.

Why are their hugs identical? They really shouldn't be, not by now.

And by the fact that Ron is upstairs, showering and changing into my nemesis.

Soft cotton, low slung pyjama bottoms that seem to be held up by prehensile hip bones.

I flatly refuse to think of what else he could be using to hold them up.

Toned arse cheeks, squeezed together; friction between the nubbly cotton and his pubic hair; an erect penis, used as a hook.

Not going there.

Nope.

Except that, I have had enough.

I snap my book closed and Nox the lights.

I'd taken a quick shower earlier, so I run up the stairs and slip silently into Ron's room.

While I am terrified of what I am about to do, I am pretty confident that Ron does want me, he is just stuck.

So, I dim the lights, undress, turn back the sheets and lie down on his bed.

The door opens and for a fraction of a second I panic as I realise that I am naked and Harry could be walking into the room, with him, but he is alone, wearing his pyjama bottoms and towelling his hair dry.

He hasn't noticed me, so I part my legs and raise my wand; Vibratus I murmur and he jumps at the sound of my voice, and the buzzing of my wand, that mutes as I slip it between my thighs and press it against my clit.

"Hermione," he squeaks. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm sure you know what I'm doing," I murmur, sighing and moving the tip of my wand in circles.

He approaches his bed and I remove my wand long enough to whisper Locomotor Mortis.

He yelps.

Oh.

His legs seem to be shaking, because I cast the spell with a vibrating wand; I make a mental note to research this in the morning.

His eyes are skittering helplessly around the room and he groans as I spread my legs further and replace my wand.

I am far too nervous to feel any arousal, but I don't think faking it while masturbating is too bad a crime, so I moan a little and arch against it.

"What are you doing?" he repeats.

"Showing you," I say.

"Showing me?" he echoes.

"That I'm a girl," I say reasonably.

Ron splutters incoherently.

"I know you're a girl, you lunatic," he manages, in a strangled tone of voice.

"What do you think of?" I ask, ignoring him.

"What?" he whimpers.

"When you touch yourself."

"Hermione!" he whines.

"I hoped so," I say, deliberately misunderstanding him. "I think of you, too."

I think his legs would have given way, beneath him, if my spell hadn't been holding them rigid.

"You think of me?" he whispers, looking stunned.

"I always have," I say.

He grins, goofily, and I bite my lip, finding it awfully hard not to just jump him.

"I think of your hands on me," I say. "Your mouth, your…." I slip the tip of my wand inside me and he whimpers.

"God," he mutters, pressing his hand against his groin.

"Is that what you want?" I ask.

"Yes," he croaks, nodding vigorously, his eyes locked on my wand.

"Then it's up to you," I say.

"Huh?" he manages to gasp.

I remove my wand and stop the charm; I sit up and cross my legs, primly.

"That's what we can have, Ron, but you have to make the first move."

He splutters and gestures at my nakedness. "You don't call that making the first move?" he asks.

"No," I say severely, removing the leg-lock, picking up my knickers and stepping into them.

"Please," he says, collapsing to sit beside me, on his bed. "Stop. Hermione…"

"Yes, Ron?" I say. "Do you want to ask me something?"

"Oh, fuck," he complains.

"Not until you ask me," I say simply.

He glares at me.

"You'll wank in front of me," he says, frowning. "But you still want me to ask you out?"

"I think it would be the right thing to do, don't you?" I ask. "I don't want to be too forward; I know boys like to be the one to do the asking."

Ron splutters.

"But, if it helps, I can tell you I will say 'yes'," I assure him.

Ron snorts and shakes his head in wonderment.

"It's a bloody good thing I'm already in love with you, you daft mare," he says. "You'd scare the shit out of any sane bloke."

I raise a haughty eyebrow. "Don't swear and tell me you love me in the same sentence," I complain. "That's not what I want to look back on."

"Don't tell me what to do, sitting there in just your knickers," he protests.

"You cannot be serious!" I scoff.

He replays his comment, in his head, as he stares at my breasts.

"Sorry," he says.

We sit and look at each; he leans into me and his head tilts and his eyes flutter closed.

"Uh, uh, uh," I whisper against his lips and his eyes fly open. "Ask me."

He huffs and his breath touches my lips and I shiver.

"Hermione Jane Granger," he murmurs. "I fancy you something rotten; will you go out with me?"

"Oh, Ron!" I gasp.

"If you say you need time to think about it, I will kill you," he says, moving even closer and putting his hand on my hip.

"Thinking is over rated," I say, smiling as I close the distance between us.

"Uh, uh, uh," Ron smirks. "I deserve an answer."

I loop my arms round his neck and pull him against me.

He gasps as my breasts touch his bare chest.

"Yes, please," I say politely.

And he kisses me.