Hi! I had half of this written months ago, but I abandoned it to work on/read other things (bc life) Anyway, when I realized I could use this idea for a trope fest one-shot I got excited and finished it bc it fits perfectly for a second kiss fic! And again, this started out fluffy but ended up smutty (what can I say? smut happens…..like shit happens…get it?) Yeah, that was cheesy. But not as cheesy as….
Cheeeeeeesy, who is busy writing her own (fucking amazing) things and still graciously gave this a lookover for me. As always, I super duper appreciate it! I gave her a small shout-out in here, so look for it!
Something that has always made me feel incredibly sad is the way Ron sees himself as not good enough. I wanted to write Hermione realizing just how deep his insecurities went, and for her to address them while also trying to help him understand his worth.
Hopefully, I’ve achieved that.
Hermione walked into the living area of the Burrow, a steaming cuppa in each hand as she made her way towards the tall, unmoving figure sitting on the sofa. As she moved closer, she saw that Ron’s eyes were glassy as he stared straight ahead, seemingly not even noticing her presence.
They’d returned to the Weasleys' family home several days ago, and since then, she and Ron hadn't said much of anything at all to each other. Admittedly, Hermione had taken a step back, allowing Ron to be with his family, knowing that right now, they all needed him more than she did. She saw him around, of course, but even then it wasn't the same- not like she was used to.
Until now, they hadn't been alone together, but from the glances Ron kept giving her whenever they happened to be in the same room, she could tell he was concerned about her. Whenever this happened, Hermione put on a brave face for him, refusing to have him worry about her. Ron had enough things to worry about without her adding to it.
“Hey,” she said gingerly as she sat down next to him, her arm outstretched as she handed him his cup.
Ron took it from her, their fingers brushing and causing Hermione’s heart to lurch. “Thanks,” he said, giving her a tight-lipped smile. Hermione was dismayed, yet unsurprised to see that it didn't reach his eyes, and she looked away, feeling guilty that he was pretending for her sake.
Today had been tough, and they’d attended two funerals, one being Ron’s ex-girlfriend’s, Lavender Brown. Ron had been stone-faced and silent both during the ceremony and afterwards, and Hermione had no idea what was going on inside his head.
“We haven't been alone in days,” Hermione mused as she took a slow sip of tea. Ron only nodded before giving her another forced smile.
Her eyes went to his lips before she looked away again, remembering the way they had felt against hers. Hermione was unsure of where she stood with Ron now, and the uncertainty was becoming harder to deal with every day. She wasn't expecting him to declare love for her or anything like that, but she would be lying if she said that she wasn't disappointed that he hadn't even mentioned or alluded to what had happened between them. If truth be told, she was pretty sure he was avoiding talking to her about it, which, of course, didn't help her nerves one bit.
“You okay?” she asked, again turning to look at him.
Ron bit his lower lip. “Dunno,” he answered in a slow voice. “So much lately, you know. Been a bit much.”
“Yeah. It’s definitely a lot,” Hermione agreed.
He looked at her, his blue eyes studying her face with something that looked a lot like regret. “What about you?” he asked. “I’m so sorry I’ve been the shittiest friend in the world, Hermione. My family needs me, and I-”
“Hey,” Hermione interrupted, gathering enough courage to reach her hand out and rest it on his knee. Although his words brought a small amount of relief, she had to bite back tears at the fact that Ron had just called her his ‘friend’. Did that mean that’s all he wanted them to be? She supposed it was quite presumptuous of her to believe that one kiss would change the entire status of their relationship, but the word still felt like a low blow. “You have not, Ron. You're wonderful.”
Ron sighed and placed his hand over hers, giving it a squeeze. “That’s not true, Hermione. I’ve put you and Harry on the back burner since we’ve been here, and I’m so sorry about that.”
Hermione wiped her wet cheeks, angry at herself for crying. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted. “And I’m worried about you.”
Ron looked down, his expression full of guilt. “I’m okay,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Or- I will be.”
“You were quiet,” Hermione started, unsure if she should bring it up but deciding to, anyway. “At Lavender’s funeral.”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Hermione swallowed, not knowing what to say, so she said nothing.
“I mean,” Ron continued. “The way people spoke about her- about this last year at Hogwarts- how she was helping the younger students cope and rooting for us along the way.” He paused. “And when it came time to fight for the cause, she did. She stayed, and she got fucking killed for it.” Ron sighed. “And all I could think about the entire service is what an ass I was to her last year. Sure, she was clingy and not right for me, but she was never a bad person. I treated her poorly, and I was a terrible boyfriend. Honestly, I thought I’d get a chance to apologize to her one day, but now I won't, because she’s dead.”
“I think she probably already knew, Ron,” Hermione said, trying to alleviate some of his guilt. “She wasn't stupid. Besides, she moved on. I heard she and Seamus were pretty happy together.”
Ron grimaced. “Yeah. Poor Seamus, he’s a mess.” Hermione closed her eyes, remembering how devastated Seamus had looked earlier today. “I mean,” Ron went on. “I don't blame him. I don't know what I’d do if I-” he stopped talking and shook his head. “Anyway, I know Lavender’s feelings for me were superficial, but that doesn't stop me from feeling bad about it.”
“Superficial?” Hermione asked, confused.
“Yeah.” Ron let out a small, humorless laugh. “I mean, at the time I thought she fancied me because I played Quidditch or something, but now I think it was only because I was Harry Potter’s best mate. Either way, it had little to do with me being me.”
Hermione stiffened at the disdain in his voice. “What do you mean?”
Ron shrugged. “I mean, obviously it had to be something like that, right?” I didn't get her with my charms or good looks.”
Hermione stared hard at him, internally searching for words. “Are you saying you think Lavender only liked you because of Harry?”
Ron shrugged. “Probably. Not much else going for me, if you know what I mean.”
Hermione could tell that he was trying to seem nonchalant, but she heard the vulnerability there and it made her stomach sink.
“Ron, that's not true. Lavender liked you for plenty of reasons.”
Ron scoffed, but said nothing.
“I’m serious!” Hermione went on. “You are- Ron, you’re-”
“Stop, Hermione. Please ,” Ron cut in, his face pained. “I know what you're doing. But don't.”
Hermione gaped at him. “What?”
Ron was avoiding her eyes, now looking genuinely upset. “You're a nice person, Hermione. I know you're only trying to make me feel better about myself, but please- it's only making me feel worse.”
“What?” Hermione said again. “No, Ron, that’s not what I’m doing! I-”
“There’s no need to, Hermione. Just leave it alone.” Before Hermione had a chance to respond, Ron stood up, already making his way to the stairway, his stature so dejected it brought tears to her eyes. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I’m going to take a shower and head off to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”
After another small, forced smile, he ran up the stairs, leaving Hermione by herself to wonder where all that had come from. She’d always known Ron didn't have the best self-esteem, but to think that he felt that little of himself? Did he think she saw him that way? The thought made her feel sick. She knew she had to fix it- and fast.
When she stood up and made her way upstairs, Ron was already in the bathroom, so she passed the closed door, heading directly up to his room. When she made it there, she found Harry alone, lying on his camp bed as he tossed a snitch back and forth in his hands.
“Harry,” Hermione started, walking into the small attic bedroom, using a tone that left no room for argument. “I need you to sleep in Ginny’s room tonight.”
Harry blinked at her. “What?”
“Ron and I have to talk, and you can’t be in here.”
Harry ran a hand down his face as he sighed. “Right. Well, okay. Just be sure to tell him that this was your idea.”
Hermione went to Ginny’s room to grab her beaded bag, and by the time she made it to the bathroom, Ron was already gone, presumably up in his room. She took a quick shower, planning in her head what she was going to say to Ron when she confronted him.
Half an hour later, when she walked into his room and shut the door behind her, wearing nothing but a spaghetti-strapped shirt and small pyjama shorts, Ron was lying on his bed, his arms stretched out behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.
“Took you long enough,” he said, not turning to look at her. “Did you have fun snogging my sister?”
Hermione smiled. “Well, although Ginny is gorgeous, she isn't really my type.”
Ron shot up in bed. “Hermione?!” His chest was bare, his blanket now at his waist as he stared at her, his eyes widening as he looked her up and down. “I- are you okay?”
Hermione bit her lip, trying to keep her eyes on his face rather than his naked chest. “Am I not welcome here?”
“No. I mean, yeah, of course you are.”
“Good.” Swishing her wand behind her, Hermione cast a quick locking and silencing charm on the door.
Ron moved his legs to the side and started to slide out of his bed before stopping, as if realizing something. “I’d get up, but I, uh- I’m kind of only in my underwear.”
“That’s okay,” Hermione replied, her voice higher than normal as she took in that bit of information. “You can stay there. I just need to talk to you.”
“Alright,” Ron said as he sat back, clearing his throat. “About what?”
“About the way you see yourself. It’s so wrong, Ron.”
Ron grimaced. “Hermione, really. There’s no need to come up here and try to puff up my ego.”
Crossing her arms, Hermione let out a huff as she walked across the room and sat down cross-legged at the foot of Ron’s bed, facing him.
“Your hair,” she started. “Although it's similar to the rest of your family’s hair color, it’s a distinctly different shade that’s only you .” Ron stared at her, but said nothing. “No matter where we are, I can see you from far away, and I can easily spot you in a crowd.” She smiled. “It’s always been reassuring to know that you're easy to find.”
“Okay,” Ron said in a slow voice. “Why are you-”
“And your eyes,” Hermione interrupted, determined not to let him get a word in until she was finished. “Are the prettiest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. But it’s not even the color that makes them so amazing. It’s the fact that I can see your every emotion in them. Like they’re a window into your soul, as cheesy as that sounds.”
Ron said nothing, his brow furrowed as he studied her.
“And you may not believe me,” she went on. “But you have a very handsome face, Ron. You always have, and you’ve only gotten better looking with age. You may not be the classic version of handsome, but to me, you're always the most attractive one in the room.”
Ron raised his eyebrows, now looking bewildered, and Hermione couldn't help but let out a small laugh.
“And your freckles,” she continued. “They are everywhere .” She paused. “Well, from the parts of you I’ve seen, anyway,” she added. “Though I like to imagine they’re in the places I haven't seen too.”
Even through the dim lighting of the moon from the window, Hermione could see Ron’s face and ears redden.
“And you blush at the drop of a hat,” she said in a softer voice. “I’ve always found it adorable.”
Ron placed his face in his hands and let out a small groan of embarrassment. “Bloody hell, Hermione,” he mumbled.
Moving so that she was on her knees in between his legs, Hermione peeled his hands from his face and forced him to look at her. “You have a strong jaw that I’ve always secretly admired- even more so when there's stubble on it.” Her gaze went to his torso. “Your shoulders have widened significantly this last year, and when you're in front of me, I feel safe.” She bit her lip. “You're so tall, and I adore that. You're very fit, you know.”
Ron gave a little disbelieving shake of his head, as if he was still unsure if this was really happening.
Hermione took one of his hands in hers and held it up to study it. “And your hands. They're so big and rough, and I've often imagined them…” Ron audibly swallowed as she lifted his hand and placed it on the side of her face before dragging it down to the side of her neck. “Imagined how they would feel on me,” she finished in a breathless voice.
“Hermione,” Ron rasped, but she ignored him, dropping his hand as she reached both her hands out to trace his shoulders and his arms. She lingered over his scars from both the brains and the splinching. “And your scars. I hate that you got hurt, of course,” she whispered, her fingers touching the indentation of skin that was missing due to her mistake. “I hate it even more that it was my fault.”
Ron adamantly shook his head. “It wasn't .”
“But they are a part of you now,” Hermione continued. “So I-”
“Hermione,” Ron tried again, his voice distressed. “Why are you doing this? Why say these things?”
She met his eyes. “I need you to see you how I see you, Ron.”
“But why ?” he whispered.
“You're brave, smart, loyal, and you care so much for those closest to you.” Hermione leaned forward and placed her hand flat on his chest, right over his heart. She could feel how fast it was beating, and she scooted even closer.
“But out of everything,” she choked out, now openly crying. “I love this part of you the most.”
“ Love ?” Ron asked, his face anguished.
Hermione nodded, and only a second later she was being engulfed in Ron’s arms, his skin hot as he held her tightly to his chest.
“You meant it?” he uttered in a hoarse voice. “When you kissed me?”
Hermione smiled, her mouth pressed up against his collarbone. “Of course, I did, Ron. How could you think I didn't?”
“I thought you- I thought it was a just in the moment thing. I didn't want to presume or pressure you about it, Hermione. I figured I was the luckiest bloke in the world for at least that moment, and that I should just feel grateful and not expect any more.”
“I love you,” she whispered. “I’m so in love with you.”
Ron’s hold slackened, and moving his hands to her upper arms, he pulled her away from him to study her face. The look of relief, joy, and what Hermione was now certain was love in his expression caused her to lean towards him, desperate to feel his lips on hers again. Before they could meet, however, Ron tightened his grip, stopping her.
“Wait,” he said. “It’s my turn to make the first move.”
Hermione’s breath hitched as Ron leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a soft kiss. Her arms automatically moved up to wrap around his neck and pull him closer, and Ron obliged, his hands moving to her lower back to pull her body against his.
It was all that she had been hoping for- all Hermione had imagined it to be once they had a moment to be by themselves. It was both longer and slower than their first kiss, neither of them feeling rushed like they had the first time.
“Hermione, I love you so fucking much,” Ron breathed after they broke away, their faces inches apart. “I have for so long.” As soon as his words were out, his lips were on hers again, pressing more firmly than before. When his tongue ran over her bottom lip, Hermione was quick to open her mouth to him, her whole body shivering as their tongues moved together. They explored each other’s mouths, one of Ron’s hands moving to the middle of her back, the other tangled in her hair as he cradled the back of her head, controlling the angle and pressure of the kiss.
A soft, strangled noise from Ron made Hermione pull away to check on him, and when she did, she saw Ron was crying, two tear tracks sliding down his cheeks. Her concern must have been on her face, because he gave her a smile as he lifted a shaky hand to pull her back to him. “M’okay,” he assured her a moment before their lips met again. “It’s okay.”
Hermione was desperate to get closer, and she moved so that she was straddling him, not even thinking about the repercussions of doing so. As soon as she settled onto his lap, Hermione could feel a hardness in between her legs, causing her to let out a small, involuntary gasp when she realized what it was.
“Sorry,” Ron groaned. He tried to scoot away from her, but was unsuccessful due to the fact his back was already against the bed’s wooden headboard.
Hermione gripped his shoulders with her hands, stilling his movement. “What on earth for?” she whispered.
Ron’s tense body relaxed a little. “I don't want you to think that I’m expecting anything from you, Hermione. Because I’m not.”
Smiling, Hermione pushed herself down more firmly against him, causing him to moan, his grip on her waist tightening. Moving even closer and pressing their torsos together, Hermione could feel that his heartbeat was just as fast as hers was. His hands on her hips, she kissed him again, his lips like a drug she was quickly becoming addicted to. Before it could get too intense, though, Ron moved his head to the side, breaking away from her.
“I’m sorry,” Hermione said, assuming her closeness was making him uncomfortable. “I didn't mean to presume-”
“Presume?” Ron cut in, his eyebrows furrowed. When she didn't answer, he let out a slow breath. “Hermione, I’m still-” he paused as if searching for the right words. “Twenty minutes ago, I was certain that you didn't feel the same way for me as I do for you. I’d convinced myself that you didn't want me like this, and now that I know you do….well, my head is still spinning.”
“Oh,” Hermione said as she went to move off of him.
Ron’s hands squeezed her hips, stopping her. “Don’t,” he pleaded. “Unless it’s what you want.”
She laughed, relieved. “Ron, you do realize that I’m the one who climbed into your lap, don't you?”
He paused, but then nodded.
“Well then, you have to realize that I want this. I want you .”
“And you bloody have me,” Ron immediately replied, his hands coming up to cup her face. “I’ve only ever been yours.”
“And I’ve only ever been yours,” she declared, her hands skimming his shoulders and arms.
His arms wrapping around her, Ron pulled her closer, his lips meeting hers again in a desperate manner. Letting out a sigh of content, Hermione relaxed into him, her mind going fuzzy as she concentrated only on Ron’s lips- the feeling of his soft hair in between her fingers, the feeling of his body against hers, his hardness between her legs.
As Ron’s hands moved over her bare shoulders, Hermione’s skin broke out in gooseflesh. The cool night air blew through Ron’s open window and made her realize for the first time that she was cold.
“Can I crawl under the covers with you?” she asked.
Ron didn't hesitate, and lifted the covers for her. Hermione slid to the side and crawled in next to him, laying her head on his pillow. Ron scooted down, mirroring her movements, and they faced each other.
“Hey,” Ron whispered, smiling at her.
“Hi,” she replied, feeling giddy and light, the weight of not knowing how he felt about her finally lifted from her chest after so many years.
“You're in my bed,” he stated.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I think that’s obvious, Ronald.”
“And I’m allowed to kiss you now.”
“Whenever you want,” she agreed.
Ron wrapped his arm around her, pulling her body flush against his. “And I can hold you this close,” he said in a low voice, the tip of his nose touching hers.
Hermione closed her eyes and smiled. “The closer, the better.”
As soon as her words were out, Ron’s lips were again pressing against hers. When he rolled them so that she was on her back, his tall frame moving atop of her and pushing her into the mattress, Hermione had no objections. Soft cries of pleasure emitted from her throat as he overtook all of her senses. Being more gentle than Hermione thought possible, Ron moved his hands under her thin top, his fingers slowly making their way up her smooth skin. Hermione arched her back, needing more of his touch.
“Take it off,” she demanded, lifting her arms for him.
Ron wasted no time, his hands going to her sides before moving up, taking her shirt with them as he lifted the garment away from her. Hermione now lay bare from the waist up underneath him, and as soon as her top was discarded somewhere onto the floor, Ron froze, his eyes dark as he took her in.
“Holy shit,” he breathed. “No one in the world could ever be….” he trailed off, lifting a hand over her before stilling it in mid-air, his eyes going to hers as he wordlessly asked for permission to touch her.
Hermione smiled. “Anywhere,” she whispered.
Hand shaking, Ron’s fingers went to the skin of her belly, stroking her skin reverently before moving to her side and doing the same. Sitting back on his knees, he added his other hand, moving them up over her ribs before finally taking a breast in each hand, squeezing gently as he watched for her reaction. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, Ron taking the opportunity to lean down and place a soft kiss on her lips. “You're beautiful, Hermione. Every inch of you.”
Hermione opened her mouth to deny it, but instead let out a small cry as Ron pinched her hardened nipples, the sensation causing the ache she felt deep in her body to grow impossibly more intense.
Staring at him, Hermione reached down and removed her shorts, pulling her knickers down along with them. Ron’s eyes and jaw dropped as he watched her, his chest heaving. After his eyes raked over her entire body for several long seconds, he groaned.
The hesitancy in his voice caused Hermione’s heart to swell with affection. At this moment, she knew she would freely give him anything he asked for, simply because it was already his- her heart, her body, everything.
His fingers went to her thighs, unintentionally teasing her as her want grew with every passing second his hands weren't where she wanted them to be. Hermione spread her legs further and Ron’s breath hitched, his eyes flitting around her naked body as if he didn't know which part to look at.
He lifted his head to meet her gaze.
“Have you ever done anything like this before?”
Ron shook his head. “No. Never.”
Hermione pushed up onto her elbows to stare at him. “Is that why you look so terrified?” she teased.
“M’not terrified. Maybe a bit overwhelmed,” he said with a smile. “In the best way possible, of course,” he added.
“Me too,” she admitted, lying back down on the pillow and letting out a sigh. She felt Ron move from between her legs to lay next to her, his lips on the side of her jaw as his hand made its way down the skin of her middle before cupping her between her legs.
“Ohmygod,” Hermione murmured, her breathing picking up speed as though she’d just been running.
Ron moved his fingers against her experimentally, his lips against her ear. “You're wet,” he remarked, sounding incredulous. “So warm.”
Too affected by what he was doing to answer, Hermione only whimpered, lifting her hips and hoping to get more pressure from his fingers.
“I know there’s a…trick,” he mumbled, switching to one finger as he ran it up and down her folds. When his finger moved over the right spot, Hermione’s hips jerked and Ron froze. “There?” he asked, sounding unsure.
Hermione nodded. “ Yes.”
Seeming to gain confidence by her affirmation, Ron used the pad of his finger to rub her in small circles, and Hermione clenched her eyes shut, her body already trembling with the threat of release. After a few minutes of this, when the room was filled only with the sounds of her frantic breathing and small moans, Ron leaned in close to whisper in her ear.
“Can I use my tongue on you?”
Just the words caused Hermione to shudder, and she was quick to nod her consent. In half a second, Ron’s head was between her legs, his tongue taking over what his fingers had previously been doing. The feeling was unlike any she had ever experienced before, and Hermione could feel how close she was, her body rocking against Ron’s mouth.
“Fingers?” he asked, the vibration of his question only furthering her pleasure.
Hermione nodded, and then cried out as Ron slowly slid two fingers into her, the action finally tipping her over the edge. Her body twitched and spasmed, her hands gripping the sheets underneath her fingers. Taking shaky breaths, she opened her eyes to see Ron hovering over her, looking amazed.
“That was bloody brilliant ,” he mused.
Hermione said nothing, but she reached for him, Ron gladly obliging and moving down to brush her lips with his. As the kiss continued, she wrapped her legs around his waist and rubbed herself against him, the only thing between them being the thin fabric of his pants. Ron paused and moved his head away to look at her, his expression hesitant. The look she was giving him must have resolved any doubts he might have had, because wordlessly he removed his pants, settling himself more comfortably between her legs.
Taking Ron’s wand from under his pillow, Hermione quickly cast the contraception charm before setting it back down and grabbing the sides of his face. “Don't stop, okay?”
“But what if I’m hurting you?” he asked, sounding nervous.
“It’ll be okay. Trust me.”
Ron nodded, and Hermione bit her lip as he moved forward, pushing into her. Hermione closed her eyes at the unfamiliar stretching feeling, lifting her hips to meet him. It hurt, but it was a pain she welcomed- a pain that she wouldn't want to experience with anyone else.
Needing him closer, she arched her back and pulled his torso down with her arms, both of their breaths coming out in small bursting pants.
Ron groaned, his head moving to rest on the pillow next to hers, his hot breath on the top of her shoulder. “So…fucking…good.” He moved his hips back, only to immediately move forward again, as if he needed to be completely joined with her.
Hermione gasped, and Ron crushed his lips to hers. “Oh, Merlin, I love you,” he moaned right before thrusting into her again, this time harder than before.
Hermione wished she could echo his words back at him, but she was unable to do much more than whimper, her body humming with all the new sensations he was causing. She clung onto him for dear life, her short nails digging into the skin at the top of his shoulders.
Together they fell into a rhythm, their lower bodies moving apart and then together again, over and over. It started slow and steady, but soon Ron picked up the pace. Hermione moaned with every sharp thrust he made, the air filled with sounds of heavy breaths and frantic kisses. Ron was biting his lip, his eyes clenched shut, a look close to pure ecstasy on his face.
“Ron,” Hermione cried, and at the sound of his name, Ron lost his composure, crying out as he released inside of her.
They stay still for several long moments, both of them regaining their breath. After a bit Ron rolled off of her onto his back, and Hermione immediately nuzzled into his side.
“Thank you,” Ron whispered, bending his neck to give her a quick kiss on the top of her head.
“For what?” Hermione asked, moving so her chin was propped up on his chest and she could see his face. “For the shag?’ she teased.
Ron chuckled, his hand coming up to stroke the hair at the back of her head. “For the words . But the shag was fucking amazing.”
“I meant it all, you know,” she said in a soft voice. “Everything I said is true.”
“I believe you. Though I think you're kinda barmy for choosing me when you can do so much better.” Hermione glared at him, and Ron gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Um- kidding?”
Rolling her eyes, she moved her body on top of his. “If you don't believe me, I’m just going to have to spend a lot of time convincing you.”
Ron nodded enthusiastically, his hands moving down to grab her bum. “I think that’s a good idea. I’m going to need lots and lots of convincing.”