Title: Leave of Absence
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Ron/Hermione, (non explicit H/G)
Word Count: 4015
Warnings (if any): A little angst, oral
Authors Notes: Written for the wizardlove exchange at LJ, my gift for loony4lupin. Thanks so much to my Shadow, my beta, who made sure that I didn't sound completely ridiculous. I really need to ingest (swallow, absorb, consume) a thesaurus!
Ron paced anxiously, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. After striding back and forth across the room for a few minutes, he moved to lean against the windowsill and began scanning the street beneath him. He raised a hand to his mouth and started chewing on his thumbnail, already bitten down to the tender skin there. His eyes flicked quickly from the top of the road to the front door below, and then back again in quick succession.
What should he do? Should he leave before they got here, or should he wait? And if he waited, what would he say?
He changed his mind from one minute to the next. He should leave. She wouldn't want him there. No, he couldn't leave. Not now. She must know that Harry had told him that she was coming back today. She'd know if he left; she'd know that he was avoiding her. But then again, maybe that was easier.
Ron growled and forced himself to sit down in the armchair furthest from the window.
They hadn't seen each other, hadn't even spoken to each other, in months. No letters, no Floo calls, no messages from Harry… nothing. Of course, he had made no attempt to contact her either, so he couldn't blame it entirely on her. Still, she'd be in the same room in a few minutes and Ron had absolutely no clue what to say. How are you supposed to react when you're in this situation? Should he say anything? She left, after all.
He put his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees, and closed his eyes. He pressed the heels of his hands to his closed eyelids, and willed the sudden headache to fade.
"What?" Hermione screeched. "You want me to choose? You know how important my career is to me, and you want me to choose?"
"Yes, I knew it was important, I just didn't think you'd put it before me, that's all," Ron shouted. "I don't need to make you choose, you've already made it perfectly clear what it is that you want."
"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity Ron! I need to do this!" Hermione was close to tears. "Why can't you understand?"
"There you go then, you've decided. Here, you better start packing," Ron started opening drawers and pulling clothes out. "Come on, where's the suitcase? Can't get away fast enough, can you?"
"Ron," Hermione cried, trying to grab his arm to stop him as he stomped around the room, adding more clothes to the pile on the bed. "Ron, stop! You're being ridiculous…"
"Yeah, that's me," he turned towards her, and snarled. "Ridiculous Ron Weasley! What were you ever doing with a moron like me, eh? Piss of to Bulgaria, then. I'll just leave you to it!"
With that, Ron turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
He hadn't spoken to her since. He'd ignored her attempts to contact him for the first few days after the argument… the stupid, ridiculous argument… and after that, when she had stopped, he just couldn't bring himself to contact her himself, to admit that he'd been wrong.
Harry tried to sort them out at first. He tried to encourage Ron to write to her, but he was far too stubborn to even admit that he wanted to. And he did want to. It was all he ever thought about, at first. He'd plan letters in his head, even write them down sometimes, but before he finished he'd usually convince himself that she had left because she didn't want him, and he would screw it up furiously and toss it into the bin. It was too late, she was gone.
Ron heard the low murmuring sound of voices outside the door and for a second he willed that same indignation to build inside him right now. That way, he'd know exactly how to react. If he was annoyed, he could ignore her completely; just turn around and walk away.
He got to his feet, ready to run when the door opened, but seeing Hermione for the first time in six months left Ron anything but angry. He just stood, feeling lost, in the middle of the living room.
Harry and Hermione entered, laughing about something, but when they turned to him as one, the laughter faded. Harry nodded his head in greeting and turned to hang his coat and scarf on the hook behind the door. He said something about making a hot drink, and walked towards the kitchen.
Hermione was still smiling. Her face was flushed with the cold, her cheeks and nose a deep pink. Her hair was mostly tucked into the purple scarf wrapped around her neck, but the fierce wind meant that many strands had escaped and were sticking in every direction. She took the scarf from around her neck, and hung it on the hook next to Harry's, before slipping out of her coat and moving slowly to stand in front of Ron.
"Hey," she spoke first, and Ron had to swallow the slight lump in his throat before answering.
"Hey," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets to stop them from wrapping themselves around her. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks. You?"
"Hmmm," Ron answered. "I'm fine."
She cleared her throat. "Good. That's good."
"Yeah."
Hermione had been back for a week and, as she'd sold her flat before she moved away, Harry had offered to let her stay at their flat for a while. At first she had refused, adamant that her parents' house would be fine, but Harry had insisted until she had finally given in. Just like old times, he had said. Except it wasn't.
Ron had done everything he possibly could to ensure that they were never alone together. Their first meeting had been awkward enough. He didn't have a clue how to act towards her. It was like learning to be her friend all over again. It was Hermione, it shouldn't have been awkward, but he was used to either screaming at her or kissing her, and he couldn't do either. He was afraid to say anything to her at all, for fear that it might result in an argument and she'd go away again.
On the other hand, there were moments when he thought that even an argument might be better than the awkward silences… he knew how to deal with the arguments. There were moments when he just wanted to scream and shout at her and ask her why she had left. But there were other times, when all he wanted to do was leap at her and pin her against the wall, wanting to remember what it felt like to touch her… to be touched by her. His insides ached from the constant battle he was fighting with his feelings, and he didn't think he could take much more.
"Right, I'm off," Harry shouted from the living room. Ron all but ran into the sitting room from the kitchen, knocking over the little telephone table in his haste.
"What? Where are you going?" he asked, hysterically, as he righted the table and waved his wand at the broken leg. He tried desperately not to look at Hermione, who was staring at him, startled by the sudden distraction from the Muggle television. Harry frowned and looked at Ron as if he were a madman.
"It's Valentine's Day," he said matter-of-factly, "taking Ginny out, aren't I?"
"You can't go!" Ron squeaked, trying very hard to grasp a reason out of thin air. "I… err… I made us all something to eat. Invite her round and we'll all have a meal here."
"Did you not hear what I said? Val-en-tines Day," he said incredulously, stressing each syllable. "It's a big deal. Especially to your sister, and I don't fancy having my bollocks hexed off. Speaking of which, I better go before I'm late."
Ron stood staring at the door long after it had closed. It was the first time he and Hermione had been alone in about six months.
"What did you make?" Hermione asked casually.
"Spaghetti Bolognese," he answered, willing his voice not to shake like his knees had started to.
"Great," she smiled. "Is it almost ready? I'm starving."
"Yeah, I'll bring it through," he told her. Hermione settled back to watching her television and he turned back to the kitchen. He willed himself to calm down. He was overreacting, and he knew it. Nevertheless, he reached into a cupboard and pulled out some Firewhiskey, downing a glass, before setting it on a tray with two glasses, and dishing out the food. Maybe it would loosen their tongues a little.
They sat in silence while they ate, staring at the television screen.
"That was lovely, thank you," Hermione said as she put her empty plate on the coffee table, and picked up the bottle of butterbeer she had summoned for herself, claiming that Firewhiskey was too strong.
"Oh, err… you're welcome," he answered, putting the plate on top of hers.
He picked his drink off the table and took a swig. He leaned back and started fiddling with his nails. He took another mouthful. Without the meal to distract them the silence suddenly felt very heavy and suffocating and Ron felt obliged to start a conversation.
"So, how was Bulgaria?" he asked, before wincing internally at his totally pathetic attempt at conversation. The topic had been completely exhausted throughout the week, but it was the first thing he'd thought of and it had just come spilling out of his mouth.
"It was brilliant," Hermione answered, as though they hadn't discussed it at all. "I really made some progress with the Bulgarian Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Viktor said he could notice the effect it has already had on…"
"Viktor?" Ron's head snapped up to look from his fingers to her face.
"Oh," Hermione said, blushing. "Krum."
Ron could feel his blood boiling already, and he knew that with the alcohol, he wouldn't be able to control it for much longer. Krum, he hadn't even thought about him. How could he have forgotten about that smug, arrogant bastard?
He clenched and ground his teeth together. He drained his glass and poured his fourth (or was it his fifth?) glass of whiskey.
"Oh, how is Vicky these days?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"Viktor is very well, thank you." She took a mouthful of her own drink, before continuing. "He really took care of me whilst I was over there. In a strange country. With no one else."
"Oh, I'll bet he did," Ron answered bitterly. He emptied another glass quickly, trying to drown out the images that were suddenly swimming inside his head; images of Hermione with her legs wrapped around the stocky Bulgarian Quidditch player.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked darkly, eyes boring into the side of his head.
"You know perfectly well what it means." He continued to drink, concentrating on the burning sensation in his throat, rather than the one in his eyes. It was dangerous. He was already holding on to just a thread of control, and this amount of alcohol wasn't going to help. Maybe that's why he was doing it, because it gave him a sort of excuse.
"Well, I know what you're implying, Ron," she admitted, "but I thought you had got over this stupid, unreasonable dislike you have of Viktor long ago."
"Unreasonable?" Ron almost laughed. "Well, I suppose you could call it unreasonable, if I disliked him. I don't. I hate him." Hermione didn't say anything, and Ron turned in time to see her roll her eyes. It did nothing to quell his anger and he moved across the couch quickly, grabbing her wrist and leaning close to her face. "I bet he was over the moon when he found out you were alone, wasn't he? I bet he had his filthy fingers all over you, didn't he?"
"I'm not going to argue with you when you're drunk, especially over something as ridiculous as this." She tried to stand up but he wouldn't let her. "Please, Ron…let's not do this."
"You left once."
"I didn't leave." She tried to pull her hand away but Ron leant even closer, his weight pinning her back against the couch.
"You did." He now felt an all too familiar emotion. He was half annoyed, half upset, as the memories of their fight and the aftermath came back to him for the hundredth time. "You pissed off to Bulgaria."
"You told me to go," her eyes were watery, and her voice broke as she continued in a whisper. "You let me go."
Ron had no answer to that. It was true, and he knew it. He put a hand to the back of her neck and pulled their foreheads together. Their alcohol ridden breath mingled in the small space between their mouths, and Hermione closed her eyes as a tear ran down one cheek.
"Did he touch you?" Ron asked, his voice rough. "Did you let him put his hands on you?"
"I should have let him. I should have let him take care of me like that… he was more than willing." He knew what she was doing. She wasn't going to let him get away with it that easily, she was hurt and she wanted to hurt him too. He let his head drop, looking down and feeling slightly crushed, until he felt her shake her head.
"No," she whispered. "No, we didn't… I didn't let him touch me." She shook her head again, eyes still closed, and then gasped when Ron crushed his lips against hers. He pulled away after just a few seconds, and they met each other's eyes for the first time in a long time. Ron swallowed hard, and asked her the question that had been eating away at him for a while.
"What about… Did you let anybody else touch you?"
"No," she said quietly. She moved her hand to cradle the side of his face, and then ran her fingers through his hair. He leaned his head into her touch, and closed his eyes.
"Six months and you haven't been with anyone else?" Ron asked, rather sceptically.
"Have you?" Hermione answered, in a tone that suggested she already knew the answer. Ron opened his eyes.
"No," he admitted. He'd thought about it, a lot in fact. He'd even come close a few times, usually with random witches he'd met in bars, but he'd always backed out before they'd gone too far. It just hadn't felt right.
He leaned in again, kissing her tentatively. First, he placed just a few short, chaste kisses at the corner of her mouth. Then his slightly open mouth caught her bottom lip between his and pulled on it hesitantly. When she did the same to his top lip, and then ran her tongue along it, Ron felt assured enough to move to kneel in front of her; a better angle for kissing. He pressed his tongue into her mouth, running it alongside hers, and grazed his bottom teeth very softly against her lip.
Hermione gripped his hair tightly, pulled him closer and whimpered when Ron deepened the kiss, coaxing her tongue into his mouth and sucking on it.
"Missed you," Ron whispered against her lips.
"Should never have let me go," she said back, moving her fingers to undo the buttons on his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders. She ran her hands across his chest as though familiarising herself with it again.
Ron moved his own hands to her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. He pulled her further to the edge of the couch, so that her knees were straddling his body and pressed kisses to her neck and collarbone. She reached behind her to take off her bra and threw it across the room. He ran his hands up her thighs and under her skirt, grabbing her arse and pulling her groin flush against his stomach.
"I'm a dick," he said against her neck, "a complete and utter wanker."
"Definitely," she agreed.
He pushed her skirt higher up so that it was around her waist and moved his mouth to one of her nipples. He flicked it with his tongue, and ran it in a circle around the stiffening nub before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it gently. The consequent moan from Hermione sent a jolt of arousal to his cock, and he moved his hands from her arse to fumble with the zip on his jeans. He pushed them down his thighs, along with his boxer shorts and gave himself a few short strokes.
She grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers. Her tongue pushed his lips open and he rubbed his hard cock against the sofa between her legs. Ron noticed her hands move down to pull at her knickers, and he helped her pull them down and off her legs.
"How have I coped without this for so long?" Ron mumbled, reaching back. He grabbed his wand from the coffee table and used it to banish her skirt and the trousers pooled around his knees.
Hermione lay back against the sofa and he trailed kisses down her stomach and across her hips. He ran his hands up her legs again and grabbed her hips to pull her right to the edge of the cushions. He kissed the inside of one thigh, and then turned to nibble carefully at the other. She spread her legs further, trying to wordlessly encourage him to carry on further up. He dragged his lips delicately across the skin and inhaled the slightly musky smell that had reached his nose. It sent another pang of arousal, and his cock gave a jolt.
He grabbed her hips firmly, as she let them rise in another silent invitation. He rubbed his nose against the fine, curly hair and his tongue flicked lightly at her folds. She moaned and pushed her pelvis up even further, so that her legs were trembling as she tried to hold the position. He pressed down with his hands and his tongue at the same time, and she relaxed against the couch, but lifted one leg to drape over his shoulder, opening herself up to his attention.
He used his finger and thumb to hold her open as he stroked his tongue against her clit over and over again. She began panting and rocking her hips a little, her hands buried in his hair to stop him from getting away.
His tongue swiped further down, breaching her for a few seconds before returning his attention to her clit. He brought his lips to it and massaged slowly, before sucking the spot skilfully. He brought his fingers to her entrance and pushed two inside her gradually. He groaned at the tight wetness, and the vibrations forced Hermione to give an answering moan.
"Ron…" she squeaked. He knew she was close, so he thrust his fingers in and out more quickly, and hummed against her on purpose. Seconds later she was trembling and whimpering, and Ron found his fingers were sliding a lot more easily. He continued to use his fingers on her, stroking her through the aftershocks and watched the hazy smile appear on her face afterwards.
She sat up after a couple of minutes, her leg dropping off his shoulder. She smiled and ran her hands through his hair again.
"I suppose you want something in return, do you?" she asked, smirking in the teasing way that he was sure only he had ever seen.
"I wouldn't mind," he confessed. He was painfully hard, and couldn't stop himself from using one hand to stroke himself deliberately. "It's been a long time."
She pushed at his shoulder and told him to lie back. He did so, bending his knees, feet on the floor and spread to let her lie between them.
He leant on his elbows to watch as she rubbed the swollen cock against her cheek. She grasped it loosely at the base and ran her hand lazily towards the tip, and then back down again. He already had pre-come pooling at the tip, it had been too long.
She licked the underside from base to tip a few times, still working it leisurely with her hand, and then pulling the foreskin back softly to expose the head, she worked her tongue in a circle around it. He was trying desperately not to thrust, he wanted her to take it in his mouth, but if he started thrusting his hips it would make it more difficult.
"Suck it," he whispered, hoarsely. "Put it in your mouth."
Ron saw that same naughty smirk, before she did what he said. She took it all the way in, down to the root, and pulled herself off it, little by little, before taking it all in again. He gently pressed on the back of her head, and couldn't help but rock his hips with her movement. He didn't want to choke her but he was losing what little control he had. She took it in again, and instead of pulling backwards, she swallowed against the head.
"Oh, fuck," Ron whimpered, and then she moaned around his cock. "Fuck, Hermione." Instead of pushing on her head, he tried to pull her off and she released him with a wet, slurping sound, looking confused.
"In you… want to come in you," he murmured urgently.
Looking slightly relieved, she reached for her wand and cast a contraceptive charm. Ron was thankful it hadn't been left up to him to think of that at the last second, as he could barely breathe, let alone think.
She straddled him and, biting her lip, she guided him to her and slowly lowered herself. They both gasped when she was completely seated, and Ron had to tell her to wait for a few seconds so that he could get his breath back and make sure that he didn't come immediately.
"Okay," he said, and she lifted herself just a little and instantly back down again. Gradually, she lifted herself further and he slammed into her harder, lifting his own hips as she lowered herself.
In a few minutes they were an incoherent, panting mess. Ron moved his thumb to Hermione's clit as she continued to ride him, knowing he had only seconds left before he came, rubbing quickly in tiny circles.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he panted as he finally let go, spilling into her as her muscles clenched around him.
She finally collapsed onto him, sweaty and breathless. She planted a soft kiss on his chest, and then rested her chin there as she looked up at him.
"God, I missed you," Ron told her quietly, hugging her close to his body, his heart aching with contentment. "And I don't just mean… you know, the sex, I mean…"
"I know," Hermione said, and she kissed his chest again.
"Can we just, I don't know, start again? And ignore the fact that I was a stupid wanker, and concentrate on the fact that I was miserable without you and that I love you and that I'll never let you out of my sight again?"
Hermione looked for a second like she thought it was too easy, like she thought Ron should be punished a little bit longer, but all she said was, "I love you too," and shuffled forwards to kiss him on the mouth.
"Good," he said, "because I need to sleep."
With that, he Apparated them to his bed and turned Hermione so that he could spoon against her back and wrapped an arm around her.
"Happy Valentines Day," he said suddenly, chuckling. "Sorry, I didn't get you a gift."
She laughed quietly too. "That's okay. You've given me just what I wanted."