Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Unstoppable	By : Thunderbird Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14474 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
A/N: Ugh, sorry this took so damn long. My time and energy was fully occupied with work this week. But I've been slaving away the past few days on this so I hope you enjoy it! I know I've been laying the angst on a little thick lately so I tried to strike a nice balance between feels, fluff, and smut for this chapter. Thanks to all of those who reviewed last week, and please keep letting me know what you think!
Warnings: M/F lemons.
Chapter 7: Rewrite
(Hermione)

“You almost ready, love?”
Hermione turned away from the mirror in her bedroom to find her fiancé staring at her expectantly from the doorway. He was looking tall, broad, and handsome in dark blue robes that made his eyes pop and glint like sapphires.
She smiled at him and nodded. “Nearly there. I’ve just got to finish my hair and put on my jewelry.” She had attempted an updo that would allow her to keep her hair curly, since straightening it was always such a chore, even with magic. It had worked nicely, in fact, seeming both stylish and natural on her, but something was missing. She dug around in the top drawer of her dresser and found a comb with a yellow silk rose on it. Hardly the ideal color, but that could be fixed easily. One wave of her wand and the flower turned an amethyst purple, just like her gown.
She’d put a great deal of time and effort into her ensemble for the evening, much more than she usually put into such things. But this was the first time that she and Ron had the opportunity to attend the Diaphone Thickett Foundation’s annual gala, since it was fairly exclusive, free for employees and donors but wildly expensive for anyone else. She’d always wanted to go, to join Harry, Draco, Blaise, and the rest in their fun, but the cost of the tickets was prohibitive. While she and Ron were financially sound, they had to be mindful about the ways they spent their money, unlike most of their friends. But now that she was an employee at the DTF she and Ron could both attend free of charge. It was another great perk of the job.
She inspected her hair and gave an approving nod. Yes, that would do nicely. Then she went to her jewelry box to retrieve her “nice earrings,” the only pair she really owned that looked expensive enough to go with her dress. Ron, however, stopped her halfway there.
“Hold on a moment,” he said behind her. “I have something for you.”
She turned to find him quite close, and she craned her neck to look up at him. “What do you mean?”
He extracted a flat velvet box from inside his robes. “An early birthday present,” he said softly.
She continued to stare up at him, bewildered. She’d already accepted her early birthday present: the dress and the shoes. They had cost so much more than she usually spent on clothing that she had insisted they treat it as her birthday gift.
He handed the box to her. “Go on, open it,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips.
She eyed him suspiciously, but did as she was told, lifting up the lid of the box and looking inside.
It contained a pair of delicate and tasteful sapphire and white gold drop earrings and a matching necklace. She stared at the pieces, partially elated, but mostly confused.
“Do you like them?” Ron asked. “I was going to go for amethysts, to match your dress, but the woman at the shop suggested these instead, so there wasn’t too much purple. Besides which…” He cleared his throat, obviously a bit thrown off by her silent reaction. “They sort of match my robes, which she said would be good, so…”
“They’re exquisite,” Hermione said honestly. “But it’s way too much. We can’t afford these.” She realized her tone sounded disapproving, ungrateful, and she hardly wanted to sound that way, but…
“We can afford them,” said Ron. “I checked the finances before I bought them, don’t worry. With my bonus from last year, plus the compensation for my injury, it was actually quite doable.”
“Yes, but… but we ought to be saving that money.”
“We are saving a good portion of it.”
“We won’t be for long, if you keep buying things like this.”
“Hermione,” Ron said, a little annoyed now. “I’m not going to go around buying you sapphires and diamonds every week. This is a special occasion. It’s almost your birthday, you’ve been so excited about this gala, and you’ve been working so hard. I just thought…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t always…” He sighed, and Hermione felt her heart clench a little. She knew how hard it was sometimes for Ron to explain what he was feeling, and she waited patiently. Finally he took a deep breath and continued. “We don’t have as much money as pretty much all of our friends, and that’s all right. We chose to pursue careers that we are passionate about instead of just trying to make a lot of money, and I’m glad for that. I wouldn’t want it any other way. But I like to… I want to be able to show you that I love you and that you are special and that you deserve these things, even if I can’t give them to you all the time.”
Hermione suddenly felt like crying. Everything from the past week was hitting her all at once, but it was more than that. She was both moved and disconcerted by Ron’s words. She loved that he had become so thoughtful, that he considered her needs before his own so much of the time now. She wasn’t sure if it was simply a result of getting older or if his job as an Auror had anything to do with it, but Ron had become a much more down-to-earth and serious person in the last few years. He hadn’t lost his sense of humor or his playfulness, which she was quite glad of, but he had certainly matured.
But the strange thing was, it made her uneasy sometimes, how much he had grown. Because it made her wonder about herself, if she had done any growing, or if she had just stayed the same. It used to be that they brought out the best in each other; she kept him grounded, while he got her to relax and lighten up. In some ways, that was still the dynamic, but Ron was starting to become adept at keeping himself grounded a lot of the time. Hermione should have been thrilled by that, and often she was, but it also had her questioning what she brought to the relationship. Ron made her smile with the sweet things he did, made her laugh by pointing out the absurdities of life and the world, and the way he looked at her, kissed her, touched, her, made her feel beautiful and sexy and sure in her own skin.
And that was all wonderful. But what did she do for him?
“I don’t deserve it,” she said quietly.
“What?” Ron asked.
“I mean, I don’t…” She swallowed. “I don’t need it. You make me feel loved and special anyway. You don’t have to buy me jewelry.”
To her surprise, Ron laughed. “Well, no one really needs expensive jewelry. That’s not the point. It’s just… it feels good to have nice things sometimes, doesn’t it? It’s good sometimes to… to have not just the things we need to survive but things that… make us feel good. I just wanted you to go into tonight feeling like you have everything you could possibly want.” He looked down at her tenderly. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. Hermione knew her eyes were glistening, and she fought it, not wanting to ruin her makeup. “This was meant to make you happy, you know.” He actually sounded a tad amused, and that made Hermione feel better.
“You’re right,” she said, trying on a watery smile. “And I’m bollocksing it all up, aren’t I?”
“Yes, a bit,” he said with a chuckle.
She managed a small laugh, then sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s been quite a hard week.”
“I know,” he said, pulling her into an embrace. She went willingly, enjoying the way he could wrap her up completely, surrounding her with his warmth. He’d always been tall, but Auror training had turned him muscular as well, making him not bulky exactly, but built, strapping. He could toss her around easily, and she rather liked that. It made her feel small, like a doll, but in a good way. He made her feel secure.
“I think you’ve been working a bit too much,” he said, after a minute. “It’s wearing you out, I can tell.”
Hermione simply sighed again and nodded against his chest. There was no point in correcting him, because she hadn’t yet gotten around to telling him the real reason she was so tired and emotional. She kept meaning to tell him about her parents and the hospital, but every time she tried she would start to imagine the look on his face, the concern, the pity, and something else, barely there, a disappointment in her, as if she had let him down, and let her parents down.
Because, in truth, she had. She understood that all too well.
She would tell him soon, she promised herself, once there was something to report. The Legilimens at the hospital was still in the middle of his assessment of both her parents, and she would be getting a full report on Monday. Then they would know exactly what level of damage they were dealing with, and could go from there. She would tell him then, when there was a real plan in place, once she knew what was going to happen.
Really, she would.
She pulled away, enough to tilt her head up and reach for a kiss. He obliged her, smiling.
“Does this mean you’ll put the jewelry on now?” he asked hopefully.
She grinned, letting herself feel some real excitement at the gift. “Help me with the necklace?” she asked.
He kissed her again. “Of course.”
***
The gala was held every year in the main ballroom of the Hotel Fascino, the most lavish and expensive hotel in all of wizarding London and a place Hermione had never had reason to visit before now. This was true of many British witches and wizards, in fact. Most of those living within the UK had little use for its hotels and inns, because anyone who was already of age had the means of Apparition at their disposal, and even those underage could use the floo network – or the Knight Bus, if they were feeling brave. Such rapid transport meant no need for a place to stay overnight, particularly when it was so expensive.
International and overseas travel was much more involved, however, and because of this the Hotel Fascino mainly catered to wealthy foreign witches and wizards looking to stay in luxury and comfort. They also made a great deal of their revenue through hosting events just like the DTF gala, as they boasted multiple versatile party spaces that could be magically transformed accommodate any affair one could imagine.
The DTF had clearly chosen to go with classic and elegant for their event, Hermione could see as she entered the ballroom arm in arm with Ron. The massive room was already bustling with patrons, and Hermione took a moment to look around, appreciating the expanse of ceiling, the intricate crystal chandeliers, and the guests milling about in smiles and beautifully tailored dress robes.
With Ron’s arm still intertwined with hers she walked further into the room, looking around for those she knew. The first person she spotted was Draco, looking resplendent and dapper in silver dress robes that only he could pull off. He was chatting with an elderly wizard in classic black robes but the moment he caught her eye he excused himself, making his way over to them.
“So glad you’re here,” he said warmly, giving her a kiss then shaking Ron’s hand. He turned back to her, looking at her up and down. “Look at you. You look beautiful.”
She smiled widely, please at the compliment. He lifted a hand to gently handle one of her earrings.
“Real sapphires?” he asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, just a little. “Yes, a gift from Ron.”
“Well done,” Draco said approvingly to her fiancé.
“A bit of an over-expenditure, I think,” Hermione said, eyeing the redhead, who simply shrugged and smiled softly.
“Nonsense,” said Draco. “A man should buy gifts for the one he loves. It shows thoughtfulness.”
“Oh, and you’re just always buying jewelry for Harry, then, are you?” Hermione asked, amused. Harry was hardly the type to wear anything of the sort.
“Not jewelry, no, as you can readily guess,” Draco replied smoothly. “But I do buy him nice clothing on a regular basis. Designer Muggle stuff, you know. Since he has the body for it,” he added with a bright smile.
“Ah, I see. And how exactly do you get him to actually wear such things?” she replied with the arch of a brow.
“By providing plentiful sexual favors in exchange, of course,” Draco said, without missing a beat.
Ron snorted. “Favors you wouldn’t provide otherwise?” His tone was skeptical.
“These favors in particular are quite special, I assure you,” Draco riposted with a carnal grin, before taking a sip of his whiskey.
Hermione glanced at Ron to find him a little red in the face, but probably just from mild embarrassment. Ron tried to be open-minded, and certainly didn’t have a problem with either Harry or Draco’s sexuality. But it was clear from the beginning that there was something about Harry and Draco’s relationship that he found difficult to wrap his head around. Hermione readily assumed it was the long history of animosity between themselves and Draco that made the thought of him and Harry together discomfiting. Or maybe he simply wasn’t fully comfortable with the realities of gay sex and all that it entailed. Or perhaps the idea of Harry as a sexual being at all was odd to him. He had very pointedly avoided hearing about Harry and Ginny’s physical relationship as well, back at Hogwarts, although Hermione always figured that had more to do with Ginny than with Harry.
It had been a little difficult for Hermione to picture the two men together as well, in the beginning at least. But she had gotten quite used to the idea, particularly after one drunken night a couple of years ago when she, Harry, and Draco had shared a couple of bottles of elven wine and, as the night went on, a number of graphic details about each of their sex lives. Hermione learned things that night that made her look at both Harry and Draco a little differently, but had also shared some specifics of her own that she hadn’t been expecting to. While Harry hardly seemed to want to hear such things, Draco had listened to Hermione’s descriptions of Ron’s technique with unabashed fascination, as though he were hearing for the first time about a monkey who had learned to perform brain surgery.
“Where is Harry?” Hermione asked Draco. Even now, after years together, the two were often joined at the hip at social functions, mostly, Hermione suspected, because Harry preferred letting Draco do most of the talking and schmoozing.
“Swarmed,” said Draco with a roll of his eyes.
He looked briefly behind him, and Hermione followed his gaze to see a small group congregated around someone she realized to be Harry. She hadn’t spotted him before, but now she could see him, at least partially, smiling graciously and nodding at something one of the other guests was saying. There were others milling about on the outside, sipping their drinks and casting surreptitious glances at Harry, as if waiting their turn for a few minutes with the Savior, but wanting to preserve some dignity while doing so.
“It will be that way for another…” Draco trailed off as he looked at his watch. “I’d say forty-five minutes or so. It’ll clear up, mostly, after that, and then we can enjoy ourselves.”
Hermione laughed at this characterization of the situation, as if Harry’s popularity was merely a spot of bad weather that had to be ridden out. “And you’re letting him go it alone, I see.”
Draco shrugged. “I stuck through for the first year we attended, but it becomes abundantly clear after a few minutes that no one is really interested in me or anything I have to say. Harry’s their hero. He’s the reason they’re here.”
“Oh, Draco, that’s not true. There are plenty of people here who would want to talk to you.”
Draco shrugged again. “It really doesn’t bother me,” he said. “Harry is Harry. You know how he is. He’s not obsessed with his own fame or assuming he’s better than everyone else. He makes people feel like they matter more than he does. And that just makes them like him more. How can I begrudge him that? Besides, I mostly found it intolerable because it was a bit boring, not because I was ignored. Harry has simply let me off the hook, allowed me to get away and have more fun than he’s having.”
Hermione nodded. That sounded like Harry, all right.
“He’ll join us soon, I’m sure,” Draco went on. “But in the meantime, let’s get you both a drink.”
He led them over to the bar, where Ron ordered a whiskey and Hermione a glass of champagne. Not long after they ran into Pansy and Theo Nott, and Theo immediately struck up a conversation with Ron about Quidditch, unsurprisingly. While Ron got on fine with Draco and his Slytherin friends in general, he and Theo had become especially friendly over the years, probably because they had quite similar senses of humor and a number of common interests, wizarding Britain’s most popular sport chief among them.
It took only a few minutes for them to get into an adamant but good-natured debate about Puddlemere’s chances against the Cannons the next week, and Hermione allowed herself to tune out and let Ron have his fun. She turned to Pansy, complimenting her on her striking nude gown which was covered in rhinestones and looked, frankly, like it cost about ten times more than Hermione’s dress had. Pansy was gracious, though, and returned the praise.
“That’s a wonderful color on you,” she said, looking Hermione up and down. Hermione would have thought her tone made her sound almost begrudging, except that she had spent enough time with Pansy by that point to understand that that was just sort of how she sounded all the time, as though she’d rather not be nice if she could help it, but was obligated to anyway. In either case, Hermione understood the compliment to be genuine. “I especially like the sapphires with it. A nice choice.”
Hermione smiled. It seemed everyone was going to notice her jewelry most of all, after all that fuss she’d made about not needing it. “Thank you. Ron picked them out actually.”
That earned a surprise arch of a brow from Pansy, but nothing more.
“How’s the little one, Pans?” Draco asked her.
“She’s fine. We left her with my parents tonight. They love keeping her, actually. It’s quite nice. Gives me and Theo some time to ourselves on occasion. Anyway, she’s completely mobile now, so she gets into just about everything. I swear, things were so much easier when all she could do was wiggle in her bassinet and occasionally roll over.”
Pansy and Theo had married only a few months out of Hogwarts, something that had surprised Hermione at the time. Pansy had always been intelligent and seemed quite ambitious, and there had been talk about her pursuing a career at the Ministry, at least while they were still at Hogwarts. But after she was married Pansy elected not to work, at least not for pay. She volunteered at an orphanage and helped Theo some with his and Blaise’s investment company, but otherwise appeared to quite enjoy her leisure time. At least, until she gave birth to their daughter, Esmerelda. She was now a mother full time, with the help of her elves, of course, Pansy always emphasized. But all in all she seemed perfectly content in it.
“You should come by and actually see her sometime,” Pansy went on in an admonishing tone. “Good thing we made Blaise godfather instead of you. He actually stops in once in a while.”
Draco scowled, looking genuinely upset. “That’s not fair. You know how busy I am, for these first few years. I try to be there as much as I can.”
Hermione kept silent, knowing, probably more than Pansy did, actually, what a sore spot the issue was for Draco. He had been fully expecting to be made godfather to Esmerelda and had been quite confused when he wasn’t.
“Oh, tosh, Draco, I was only joking. No need to be so sensitive all the time.”
Draco gave Hermione a disbelieving look and a roll of his eyes, clearly still put out. Hermione suppressed an amused smile, since Pansy had turned back to her now.
“So, how are the wedding plans coming on?” she asked. “Did you pick a venue yet?”
“We did, actually. There are these incredible gardens in Wiltshire that we found, a mix of normal and magical plants, and they have a gorgeous reception hall. We’ve booked it for May, which I think will be perfect.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“I think it will be. Now it’s mostly just worrying about the details of the ceremony and the reception, which, honestly, is all quite stressful. I wasn’t expecting it to be so much work, but perhaps that was naïve on my part.”
“No one can really know what it’s truly like until they plan a wedding themselves,” Pansy agreed sagely. “I thought I would go absolutely barking mad by the end of it, I must tell you. And Theo was no help at all of course. He didn’t seem to care one bit about the day. Said whatever I wanted would be fine. But that’s hardly helpful, is it?”
Both women glanced over their shoulders at their men. Theo had just snorted in amusement at some quip Ron had made, and they were both grinning into their whiskey.
“Giggling like schoolboys,” Pansy said under her breath. “Anyway, you can never rely on the grooms to do their share of the work. That’s what I’ve learned. It was all me, my mum, Theo’s mum, and Daphne, who was my maid of honor. The men had absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“Now, now, I remember helping a bit,” said Draco.
“You went to a cake tasting with me once,” Pansy countered. “And that was just so you could eat cake, and you well know it. So don’t go making it sound like some great sacrifice.”
Draco scowled and took another sip of his whiskey.
“Honestly, men do you one favor and they think themselves saints,” Pansy said to Hermione conspiratorially. “They never realize what women do for them day in and day out, do they?”
Hermione glanced at Ron again, knowing that she could hardly agree. Ron did things for her all the time, and he also always acknowledged the things that she did for him. But she hardly thought she’d ingratiate herself to Pansy by saying so.
“Ron doesn’t seem all that concerned with the wedding details,” she said instead. “But, to be honest, now that I have my dress and the venue, I find it hard to care about them, either. I think we mostly just wish we had all of that out of the way.”
“You picked out a dress finally?” Pansy said, looking genuinely enthused. “Tell me all about it.”
Hermione did, going into great detail because, well, Pansy did seem genuinely interested, and Hermione loved talking about it. In the middle of her description they were joined by Blaise and Daphne, and Hermione couldn’t help but note how relieved Draco looked to see them. He immediately latched onto Blaise, asking after him and his business, while Daphne joined in on Hermione and Pansy’s discussion, after the exchange of some pleasantries.
Daphne Greengrass was, in Hermione’s mind, the epitome of the glamorous pureblood woman. Tall, blonde, and willowy, she was intimidatingly beautiful and carried herself with all the dignity of her status. Hermione was always reminded of Narcissa Malfoy (now, Narcissa Black, of course), looking at her, although Narcissa had a kind of refined fortitude and self-possession that Daphne had yet to truly embody.
Still, she integrated herself seamlessly into the conversation with a social grace that Hermione couldn’t help but admire, although she felt a small pang at the thought of the fact that because she was here, Vesper wasn’t. It was a shame because Daphne, while perfectly pleasant to talk to, didn’t put one at ease in the same way. Vesper had a talent for making a person feel like they were wonderful just as they were and should feel free to be themselves, and Hermione had always appreciated that about her.
Much to her delight Harry was also able to join them not long after, looking just a bit harassed but otherwise in good spirits as he gave Draco a light kiss before going around and greeting everyone else.
“You made it out alive,” Hermione said as he pecked her on the cheek.
“That I did,” Harry said. “Although it’s really the catering staff I have to thank, in this instance. They’ve just put out the food and thankfully shrimp cocktail and cheese puffs are a lot more interesting to most people than I am, so they scattered and let me make my escape.”
Hermione laughed, although she had to admit, at least to herself, that the thought of shrimp cocktail and cheese puffs was quite appealing to her as well. Luckily, many in their party seemed to agree, and they made their way towards the food.
On the way Hermione ran into more people she knew, including Penelope Clearwater, who greeted her happily. Back at Hogwarts Hermione had only known her peripherally as Percy’s Ravenclaw girlfriend, but now they were on the same legal team at the DTF and had become fast friends. Penelope was much like Hermione: hardworking, meticulous, and passionate about her job, and it meant that she was always someone Hermione could turn to at work when she was feeling frustrated.
They were content to talk shop now as they loaded their plates with food, and Hermione invited Penelope and her date, a Hufflepuff Hermione didn’t know, to join them at their table.
“Your man’s looking quite handsome tonight,” Penelope said in a low voice to Hermione, once they were seated.
She grinned. “Yes, he is.” Ron was now laughing and talking with Harry as he ate, looking quite happy. Draco sat on Harry’s other side, talking with Daphne now, but Hermione couldn’t help but notice that he clearly had a hand on Harry’s knee under the table, as if it wouldn’t do to be sitting next to each other and not touching in some way. They did this a lot, in fact, constantly reassuring each other that the other was there in small, subtle ways. Hermione thought it quite sweet.
“There was a time I myself thought I’d end up with a Weasley,” Penelope went on, and Hermione turned back to her.
“I know. Many of us did. What happened between you and Percy, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Penelope shrugged. “We were too similar, I suppose. I don’t know. It stopped being interesting, after a while. Plus we could be quite competitive, sometimes, and I don’t think that was very healthy.”
Hermione nodded. “Well, at least you figured it out before things went any further.”
“Very true. I’ve met his wife, Audrey, a couple of times. She seems better suited to him.”
Hermione had to agree. Audrey was serious enough for Percy but self-posessed enough to not get wrapped up in his pompousness. In fact, he had become much less so over the years, and Hermione could only assume it was because of her influence.
“She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”
“Due in December,” said Hermione. “Adding yet another child to the Weasley clan.” Bill and Fleur already had two daughters, Victoire and Dominique, and Teddy was still considered an honorary Weasley grandchild. Hermione could only imagine what it would be like when she and Ron started having children. The Weasleys could well have enough little ones to start their own nursery school, by that point, especially since Harry and Draco’s children would undoubtedly be counted in that number as well.
Dinner was interrupted then as a pleasant chime sounded and Naomi Thickett, Harry’s boss, approached the podium at the front of the room. Hermione had forgotten about this part. Apparently it was the job of every department head at the Foundation to give presentations on what their department was doing and accomplishing, in order to drum up more money for their various causes. It made sense, of course. This was, after all, a fundraising event disguised as a party. Still, Hermione was content to only half listen and continue to enjoy her food.
She smiled when Harry surreptitiously took the seat next to her and leaned in to say something. “Aren’t you glad they don’t rope us into this stuff?” he asked in a low voice.
Hermione shrugged. She actually wouldn’t mind it. In fact, she thought it would be quite gratifying to one day be running the department herself. But she and Harry were different in that way. “I’m surprised they don’t make you do the presentation for your team. They’d likely raise more money that way.”
“Believe me, they’ve tried,” Harry said with a wry smile. “But I made it clear when I took the job: I’ll show up and gladhand and get fawned over all they want me to, but I’m not giving any speeches. That’s where I draw the line.”
Hermione laughed and gave Harry’s shoulder an appreciative rub. Harry had certainly become more socially gracious and politically savvy over the years, but she liked that he still maintained certain boundaries, so he never lost himself or fundamentally changed who he really was.
Half an hour later the presentations were done and there was an enthusiastic round of applause, Hermione was happy to see. Then the guests were encouraged to eat, drink, dance, and enjoy themselves as the podium was removed and a band took to the stage to set up their instruments.
“Ah, now we arrive at our favorite part of the evening,” said Harry. “If you’ll excuse me.” He stood and made his way around the table to where Draco sat. He placed his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders and bent down to whisper something in his ear, making the blond’s face split into a wide grin. He stood, taking Harry’s hand as they made their way to the dance floor. Hermione looked on with warmth surging through her chest, wondering when the two of them, who had been so clearly and unwaveringly in love since the start of their relationship, were finally going to get around to tying the knot.
“Care to dance?” a familiar voice asked her, and she looked up to see Ron grinning down at her.
“Of course,” she said, finishing off the last sip of her champagne before following him onto the dance floor.
He immediately took her in his arms and started swaying her to the beat, and she was happy to follow along.
“This will be good practice for the wedding,” Ron said with a smile.
“I was thinking, actually, that we should take lessons in preparation,” Hermione said.
Ron pretended to look offended. “Are you saying my dancing skills aren’t up to your high standards, Miss Granger?”
“I think we both have room for improvement, considering we don't know much more than the very basics, and everyone will be watching us for our first dance,” she countered.
“Fair enough,” he conceded, after some consideration.
They moved together easily in silence for a minute or two, Hermione enjoying the feel of him, the smell of him, and appreciating this reprieve from the hardships of the previous week.
Ron chuckled suddenly, and Hermione looked up at him. “What?” she asked.
“I was just thinking about the Yule Ball fourth year,” he said. “I’m sure you remember it vividly.”
“How could I not?” Hermione replied drily. “We had quite the bad row, as I recall.”
“Yes, that was an awful night. For me, at least. I’m sure you enjoyed yourself more than I did, since you had a date you actually liked and weren’t pining over someone else the whole time.” He said it as though he were amused, but Hermione knew there were still little veins of hurt and jealousy hidden in there somewhere, even after all these years.
“I was pining, actually,” she corrected him. “I was angry at you, of course, but mostly because I just wished you could acknowledge how you felt. And part of me doubted that you cared for me that way, actually, and that upset me.”
“Of course I did,” Ron said softly, bending so that his lips brushed her forehead. “I always did, and then when I saw you on Krum’s arm, in that dress…” He sighed. “You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. It nearly killed me, right there on the spot. I nearly died.”
Hermione giggled, unable to help a blush. “You survived, though, somehow.”
“Barely,” Ron said, sounding amused again. “And you know how? I went up to Gryffindor tower, surrounded my bed in the strongest silencing charm I could muster, and had the best wank of my life, thinking about you.”
Hermione was all out grinning now, still flushed as heat began to pool in her navel at the thought. “Naughty boy,” she said quietly. “I bet you did.”
Ron chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to her temple.
A faster song started up then, and neither of them had much breath left for talking as they both tried to keep up with the beat, laughing all the while.
After a few more songs they both agreed on a break, and Ron went to the bar to get them more drinks while Hermione stood to the side and watched the others dance. Some looked quite enthralled, like Pansy and Theo, who were pressed nose to nose, and Harry and Draco, who were dancing quite close as well, murmuring things in each other’s ears and laughing. Blaise and Daphne, Hermione couldn’t help but note, did not look nearly so cozy. There was a noticeable distance between them as they swayed to the music, and they while they were clearly having an animated and enjoyable conversation, it had none of the intimacy that Harry and Draco’s did.
“Here you are, my love,” Ron said, placing a glass of white wine in her hand.
“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked her. “I can see your brain working away over here.”
“Just considering Daphne and Blaise.”
“Ah,” Ron replied knowingly. “I get the impression they’re just friends.”
“So do I,” Hermione agreed. “I’m just trying to understand why.”
Ron nodded, likely understanding that Hermione was referring more to Blaise’s relationship with Vesper than his relationship with Daphne.
“You’ve spent a lot of time with Vesper this week,” Hermione noted, turning to him. “Has she said anything about it?”
Ron shook his head. “She keeps pretty well silent on the subject. Almost obviously so. It’s like she goes out of her way not to mention him, really.”
“Hm. Blaise is much the same way.” She’d made the mistake early on of asking Blaise about the breakup, thinking that he would want to talk about it, as he had a tendency to be open with his feelings most of the time. But he’d closed off to her, unexpectedly, and after that she avoided the risk of upsetting him by never mentioning it again. “It’s all rather odd.”
Ron sighed. “I always assumed they mutually agreed not to talk about it.”
“Yes, but why,” Hermione asked again.
Ron chuckled, giving her an amused look. “It really irks you, doesn’t it, not being able to find out?”
She pretended to scowl at him, but the smile in her eyes gave her away. “Yes, it really does.”
“Some things never change,” he said, laughter still in his voice.
They finished their drinks and then returned to the dance floor, joining Draco and Harry, who were still having a quite a good time.
The night went on and Hermione eventually forgot about her questions regarding Blaise and Vesper, as well as her other worries, as she danced, talked, and laughed with her friends.
Eventually she found herself well worn out, and told Ron so. They Apparated home in good spirits, although Hermione felt a bit like Cinderella after her carriage had turned back into a pumpkin. Most of her makeup had worn off and her hair was starting to come undone.
She decided to take a quick shower, having the sudden urge to feel fresh again before bed. Though it had been a fun night, and she had enjoyed the chance to get dressed up and feel fancy for an evening, she found herself rather glad to be back to her normal self again, dressed only in one of the soft oversized night shirts she liked to sleep in. Elegance and finery was all well and good, but freedom was so much sweeter.
She threw her still damp hair into a knot at the top of her head as usual, then brushed her teeth and inspected her face, making sure that the last remnants of the eye makeup was gone. She looked at herself for a moment, temporarily shocked at the transformation. She often felt this way after removing makeup, since the stuff made her look so much older, more like a woman, whereas her clear, supple skin and elfin features had always made her seem more naturally girlish.
In truth, she felt quite blessed to be born with the skin she had. It had remained fairly blemish-free through most of her adolescence, something many of the other girls at Hogwarts had envied without her even knowing it at the time. She hardly felt guilty, though. It was nice to have something going for her, since it had taken quite a few years for her to figure out how to tame her stubbornly frizzy hair and get rid of those awful buck teeth. She had always been small-breasted too, up until a few years ago, petite, with no real curves to speak of. That made her feel young, and not in a good way. Pre-pubescent, underdeveloped. Ron never complained, of course. From the beginning he had outright worshipped her body, making her truly feel like a sexual being for the first time in her life. But she had to admit that when she hit her twenties and finally filled out, it made all the difference. She finally felt like a woman, especially when Ron had his eyes, his hands, and his mouth on her.
She bit her lip and reined in her wayward thoughts. There were other things to be taken care of first. She reached for the familiar tin sitting on the counter, then made her way out of the bathroom to find her future husband relaxed in bed already, shirtless, book in hand. She smiled.
“How’s the shoulder feeling?” she asked him. She had managed to stop herself from bringing it up all night, but now she wanted to make sure he wasn’t uncomfortable after all that dancing.
He glanced up at her, taking her in for a moment, his pale, freckled skin glowing in the orange light of the lamp. “It’s all right,” he said. “No worse for wear.”
“Still, you were fairly active tonight. Might be smart to use the salve.” She held up the tin. “I’ll apply it myself.”
He smirked. “Well, with that sort of offer… how can I resist?”
She smiled at him gratefully, glad he was agreeing without much fuss. He wasn’t a difficult patient, all around, but he had a tendency to be brave about his injury, an inherent Gryffindor quality, to be sure. Admirable at times, but also frustrating, especially when he was feeling discomfort and wasn’t willing to say. Hermione had learned that she had to push treatment sometimes, just a bit, for him to accept it. He knew from experience, though, that this salve did make him feel better, and it was always more effectively applied with Hermione doing it, which was an added bonus.
She clambered onto the bed and straddled him, pulling the lid off the tin to reveal the thick, fragrant, paste inside. It was a familiar scent: the musky, herbal essence of dittany marrying strangely with a hint of mint and something floral and a bit sweet that Hermione had never been able to identify. She had been ambivalent about the smell at first, but now she associated it with healing, with a reduction in Ron’s pain, and that made it pleasant to her.
She dipped her fingers into the dark paste and began applying it liberally to the spot where Ron’s upper arm met his shoulder. There was still a scar there, a bit puffy at the moment, especially since it had been buried under dress robes all night as he danced and moved about. But the salve would help with the inflammation and keep him from being too sore in the morning.
She could feel her fiancé watching her as she worked, but she kept her eyes focused on the task at hand. Her mind, however, kept wandering to the chiseled, bare torso in front of her, the feel of the strong legs beneath her, and, most distractingly, the long fingers that were lightly brushing over the tops of her thighs.
This kind of touch always made her tremble, always made heat begin to pool between her legs, and Ron knew it. But she did her best to appear unaffected as Ron’s hands inched ever upward, under her sleep shirt, towards the sensitive skin of her hips. When he arrived there, though, he paused.
“You’re not wearing any knickers,” he said, his voice suddenly dark.
“Of course-“ She cleared her throat a moment, as her voice had come out all raspy. “Of course not. I hardly ever wear pants to bed. You know that.”
“But still…” Ron said, and his fingers continued to glide along her body, finding the crease where her thigh ended and her pelvis began, one of his favorite spots, and then continuing up, across her hip, and back down the smooth globe of her arse. His touch was still light, exploratory, but with a possessive edge that had her shivering.
“Stop that,” she admonished, trying not to pant, though her head was starting to swim a little. “I’ve got to concentrate on this.” The salve was applied now, but she still had to rub it in, and very gently, so as not to irritate the injury further.
“You climb on top of me without any knickers on and expect me not to do some fondling?” Ron asked, his tone incredulous and husky all at once.
Hermione fought a smile as her hand continued to work, gently kneading the joint of his shoulder. “I expect you to be patient.”
“I don’t know why,” replied Ron. “I’ve never been before.”
She let a giggle escape her before she clamped her mouth shut, trying to control it. Ron, obviously egged on, let one hand wander up the side of her ribs, towards her breast, while the other lingered near her navel, caressing in circles that just barely skimmed the edge of her pubic hair on the downward stroke. She bucked a little, unable to help it, and Ron chuckled darkly, a sound that went straight to her core, stoking the fire already building there.
“Dammit, Ron,” Hermione breathed. “Just give me a minute.”
His thumb ghosted, ever so lightly, over a pebbled nipple, and she gasped. “Mmmm, what?” he said languidly, feigning innocence as he stroked her again. “I’m not doing anything.”
Hermione closed her eyes, half exasperated, half enthralled, as the hand on her stomach traveled further south, skimming the throbbing button of her clitoris and going lower, to the folds of her entrance, exploring, testing the waters. Her breathing was harsh now, and his not much better. His other hand pinched her nipple, and she whimpered.
“You’re so wet already.” She opened her eyes to find that his gaze matched the awe in his voice as he looked at her. “Gods, ‘Mione. What you do to me.”
She knew already, of course. There was fairly prominent evidence straining his underwear at that very moment. She found herself pressing forward, rubbing against it, making him moan. He moved his hand well out of the way so that she could grind on him more, which she did, way past resisting her own needs at this point. The salve on his shoulder forgotten, she continued to increase the friction, all the while encouraging the continued teasing of her breasts by pressing into his hands, loving the dual stimulation.
Ron, clearly tired of the barrier in between them, removed her shirt with a deft yank, leaving her completely naked. His mouth immediately found one of her nipples, and she threw her head back, crying out in approval as he licked, sucked, and gently nibbled on one breast and then the other, just how she liked it.
She hadn’t realized that she was this worked up, but it suddenly crossed her mind that they hadn’t made love since the day her parents were hospitalized. It wasn’t intentional, of course. It wasn’t that she had been distant, or pushed Ron away. She had simply been tired, drained, distracted. But she found, now, as her internal muscles spasmed with increasing excitement, that she needed him, she craved him. And she couldn’t wait much longer.
Luckily, Ron seemed to sense this, as he clutched her around the waist with one arm and flipped her onto her back in one fluid motion. She shrieked in surprise and then giggled in excitement, before thinking, suddenly of his injury.
“Your arm,” she reminded him.
“My arm,” he said, his voice coming out a needy growl as he nipped at her bottom lip, “is fine.” He kissed her in earnest, passionately, desperately, and she let herself get lost in it for a moment.
“But I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” she gasped out, when his mouth released hers.
He shook his head, grinning down at her. “Must you always worry so much? Why don’t you let me take care of you for a change, you stubborn woman.”
You already do, she wanted to say, but his mouth was on her breasts again, kissing, sucking, leaving little love bites that caused spikes of pleasure inside her, and she couldn’t speak. How could she explain, anyway? How could she truly put into words all the little things he did that made her feel so cherished?
Especially when I don’t deserve it.
But that thought flew right out of her head as Ron descended lower, working his way across her stomach, and lower still. She was already bucking in anticipation, the fingers pinching her nipple and kneading her bottom only stoking the building need for direct stimulation.
Ron paused, his lips hovering over her most sensitive spot, and Hermione watched, panting, waiting. She was about to beg him outright when he closed that small gap and kissed her.
She released a breath that was more like a sigh. The touch of his lips was light, but oh so good. He kissed her clit again, a little deeper this time, and she bit her lip, silently praying for more. When his tongue ventured out to taste her she moaned, encouraging him.
He’d always been good at this. She wasn’t sure what it was. A natural intuition, she supposed. When they’d first gotten together, their sex life had needed time to evolve, just like any young couple’s did. Ron was well-endowed, and the prospect of intercourse had been intimidating to say the least, in those early months. In fact, Hermione thought of the loss of her virginity more as a process than as an event, as she slowly got accustomed to having something so big inside her, as she learned to enjoy it, even. She took a great deal of pleasure from it now, of course.
But she had always enjoyed this: his mouth on her. Ron made sure of it. He always took his time, savoring her, as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be. And when his lips wrapped gently around her clit, as they were doing now, and sucked, she felt as if the whole of the world were suddenly concentrated in that one tiny spot, as if all the pleasure coursing through her body was suddenly pulled there, pulsing, unbearably sweet, and hot, and good.
“Ron,” she gasped, as the pleasure built like rungs of a ladder that worked their way up step by delicious step. She watched him, unable to help it, relishing the way his mouth moved lovingly against her sex.
Normally she would let this run its course, as it always did. She would come; that was inevitable. It was simply too good, and she could already feel it on its way. But there was an emptiness in her, a sharp need that could only be filled by Ron’s sizeable cock. And she wanted it – now.
“No,” she said, breathless. “I’ll come.”
He paused, looking at up her from between her legs.
“And that’s a problem because…?” His breath danced against her swollen lips, further heightening her desperation.
“Because I need you. Inside me. Right now.”
“Mione…”
This wasn’t how they normally did things. Ron liked to make her come at least once before he entered her. Sometimes, a lot of the time, she could come again with him inside her, which was incredible in its own way. But he rarely thought he had done his job unless she’d had a guaranteed orgasm beforehand.
“I want you to fuck me,” she said, her voice more breath than substance. “I want you to fuck me hard.”
He closed his eyes, as if in pain, but she knew it was just the opposite, for when he opened them the blue of his irises had darkened considerably.
“Please, Ron. I need you now.”
That would be enough, she knew. Ron lifted himself up off the bed, quickly removing his boxers before returning, situating himself between her legs. He kissed her deeply as he simultaneously lifted her by one of her thighs, positioning himself.
She was so ready for him that as he pushed himself inside it was nothing but pure pleasure. They both moaned in mutual gratification as he bottomed out inside her, his pelvis right against hers. She felt unbelievably full, but it was exactly what she had been craving, and she threw her head back, arching against him. He took this as permission to move, sliding out of her and then back in, slowly at first. But as she moaned and dug her heels into his arse he picked up the pace, panting harshly against her neck.
He rolled his hips as he thrust into her, just the way she liked, so that his pelvis ground into her clit, giving her stimulation from the outside just as his cock was driving her wild on the inside.
“Ron,” she sobbed, clawing at his back with need, with approval, with desperation. “Fuck, Ron, yes!”
“Oh, ‘Mione,” he moaned in her ear, making her smile in pleasure and delight. “You feel so fucking good. I will never have enough of you.”
She sucked on his neck as he drove into her, getting faster and faster, harder and harder, until it was clear by the way he was shaking that he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Which was fine, as Hermione was approaching her peak, so close to the edge that she could almost taste it.
She rolled against him, matching him thrust for thrust, getting that little extra bit of friction that would send her over. She cried out as she felt herself reaching the crescendo, grinding against him and then stilling as her muscles clamped around him, spasming in a torrent of sharp, sweet pleasure.
“Oh, fuck,” Ron said as he came too, erupting deep inside her, shuddering above her as he held her tight. She held onto him too as the last remnants of her orgasm subsided in diminishing waves of pleasure that felt right in sync with his still-pulsing cock.
They both collapsed simultaneously. “Gods,” Ron breathed in her ear. “I really don’t think a lifetime spent inside of you will be enough.”
Hermione couldn’t help but smile. Ron could be quite eloquent when he wasn’t trying to be. She let her fingers dance along his back, speaking her appreciation for her. She herself didn’t quite have words yet. She hadn’t realized how much she had needed this, what a difference it would make to be connected to Ron this way, after everything that had happened. It reminded her, better than anything else that night, of all the good she had in her life. And, for the first time all week, she felt true, unadulterated joy for what her life, and her future with Ron, would hold.
Up Next: Vesper's fun night out ends with an unexpected confrontation.
Book_addict_89: Lol sorry if I got some waterworks going there. If it’s any consolation, I was a little teary writing that chapter as well.
staar: Well here’s some Hermione time for you. I hope you enjoyed it! We’ll get to see lots more of Harry and Draco with Teddy, too, don’t worry.
Dedicated_Reader: Thank you for saying so, even though it was an intense and emotionally rough chapter. It was for me when I was writing it as well, since I’m drawing a lot on my own experience here, more than I was expecting. But, not all the chapters are that intense, as you can see. I hope your excitement continues to build for the story!
SickPuppy: I know I missed you last week! Glad you’re still following along though. And you get extra bonus points for being the only reviewer to mention that little tidbit about Vesper! That will definitely become relevant later on.
LadyShire: Yay so glad you’re hooked! There are a lot of fun surprises to come. I don’t want to give anything away so I’m not going to answer your questions about Harry and Draco but I will say I anticipate that you will be happy with how things unfold. That’s all I can give you for now :)
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