The Best Laid Plans

The best laid plans often go wrong.

Picks up where "Walking Wounded" leaves off

Rated "M"

Ron/Hermione romance

Can I just say that no, I don't own Ron, Hermione or any of JK Rowling's brilliant characters, plots, or other literary creations and I'm just checking out these two like books from the library one reads again and again? Okay, glad we've cleared that bit up. Thanks for all of the positive feedback thus far. Characters' thoughts are in italics.

Hermione and Ron held each other's hands all the way to the London Underground station, through the turnstiles and as they boarded the train. They took their seats, and finally looked at each other. Ron was grinning like an idiot, and Hermione let out a laugh, accompanied by a nervous smile. After about ten seconds, they turned away from each other in embarrassment.

Isn't this what you wanted? Hermione asked herself. Ron's better now. We're together – aren't we? We'll get back to the store, and we'll be alone upstairs, and we'll . . . we'll . . . what will we do? What should we do? What will Ron expect? Hermione's mind reeled with possibilities. They could take it slow, perhaps dance a little, or fall asleep in each other's arms, or – after all these months of holding back – it might be too much and they might jump into bed together. It might play out like one of those scenes in the movies where the couple is kissing madly while entering the apartment, house, hotel room or corner office after hours and clothes are removed with abandon. She bit her lip and looked out the train window. She was still holding Ron's hand, simultaneously aroused and afraid. It would be her first time. She wanted it to be with Ron, but she didn't want to go too fast. How could it be too fast? She had known him for more than seven years. What don't I know about him? What about that speech I just gave him on the steps of St. Paul's Cathedral about not wasting a minute? Dammit. My heart is beating so fast. Are these flutterings what they call palpitations? What about birth control? Hermione's mind was on overload, but she wasn't the only one.

Take it easy, Ron repeated to himself over and over. You can do this – or can you? Should you, tonight? How can you NOT do it tonight? You have Hermione all to yourself. It's not like the Burrow, where someone can walk in without warning (not that there aren't spells to guard against that sort of thing, but in the heat of the moment, one might forget to cast them). Don't pressure her or anything, but if through the evening, things progress, well . . . who knows? Oh shit – what if I'm not her first? She wouldn't have done it with Victor or McLaggen, right? I haven't yet – what if I screw it up? A poor choice of words, given the circumstances. I mean, what if . . . Ron couldn't even articulate in his mind all the potential types of disaster that could occur. Is that the Thai seafood soup, or my nerves doing that to my stomach? Ron gave Hermione's hand an extra squeeze, even though he couldn't quite bring himself to look at her then. She squeezed his hand back.

The train arrived at their stop, Charring Cross. The couple practically sprinted off of the train and up the stairs. They reached The Leaky Cauldron and hurried through the pub so they could get through the brick gateway to Diagon Alley. They rushed through the streets and stopped abruptly when they were in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

As Ron and Hermione panted heavily from their running, Hermione noticed they were still holding hands.

"You've got your wand?" she asked while looking over at him.

"It should be in your bag," he replied.

Hermione let go of Ron's hand so she could root around for it.

"Got it!" she said with a little too much excitement, causing her to blush.

Ron took the wand from Hermione, making sure he caressed her hand as he did so. The palpitations began anew, and he cast the appropriate charms that allowed them to enter the shop. After they closed the front door, Ron re-cast the security charms so they'd be safe for the night. He put his wand in his back jeans pocket, and turned to Hermione, whose pale skin was glowing in the moonlight that shone through the shop's windows. She looked up at him with soft eyes. Her breathing had slowed from what it was after their run, but it was heavier than normal.

Ron took a step closer to her. He moved the stray hairs away from her face, then gripped her shoulders. Hermione put her arms around his waist, bringing them closer together still. A few seconds passed before they tried to kiss, accidently mashing their mouths with a little too much force and hitting each other's teeth.

"Ow!" Ron pulled back and covered his mouth.

"Sorry," Hermione said while she covered her own. They both made scrunched-up faces trying to massage the pain away.

"Me too," Ron replied. He took in a breath, and looked down at Hermione's face. "Are you . . . nervous?"

Part of Hermione wanted to play it off and act cool, but this was Ron, who knew her better than anyone. She also thought starting off this part of their relationship with a lie was probably a bad idea. She exhaled deeply, then spoke.

"Well . . . yes. You?"

Ron also toyed with the notion of false bravado, but then thought better of it.

"Yeah."

An awkward silence hung briefly between them.

"Maybe we should go upstairs and have a butterbeer." Hermione remembered all those stories she'd read where the couple had some kind of alcoholic beverage before they . . . got it together. Perhaps that helps.

"Sure. We need to put the groceries away anyway," Ron said.

They both tried to climb the narrow staircase at the same time, bumping into each other. Ron stepped back.

"Ladies first," he said as he waved his arm toward the staircase.

"Wait," Hermione said. "It's pretty dark. Can you –"

Before Hermione could finish her request, Ron said "Lumos" so they could see better.

"Thanks," Hermione said as she turned back towards Ron before beginning her ascent.

In short order, they put away the groceries and cracked open the butterbeers. They stood in the galley kitchen, only illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the skylight, sipping from their bottles. Ron took another swig as he looked at Hermione. Part of him wanted to ravish her, and part of him was terrified of her. She leaned against the counter, thinking what to do next.

"What if I put on some music?"

"Um, yeah. Except I don't know where George keeps his records or the radio."

"My laptop should be sufficiently charged-up by now. I could play songs from it."

"You've got music on that thing?"

"Sure," she replied while she moved into the bedroom. She moved her wand from the solar charger and waved it.

"Nox," she said to turn off the light the wand had been casting. She opened the laptop, furiously typed on the keyboard and ran her finger over the touchpad, and before Ron knew it, some old-fashioned music was playing. It was slow and romantic. Part of him felt more nervous now, but he felt compelled to ask Hermione an important question. He set his butterbeer on a nearby side table, walked up to her, and took her hand.

"Would you like to . . . dance?" His voice unexpectedly cracked on the last word of his question.

Hermione grasped his other hand.

"Yes."

Ron's left hand slipped along Hermione's waist and settled into the small of her back. Hermione snuggled her head into Ron's left shoulder and put her right arm around his waist, even though formal dancing rules dictate she was supposed to have her arm up higher. Their other hands began clasped up in the air, but soon migrated downward to each other's waists. By the middle of the second song, they were basically clinging to each other very closely and rocking in time to the music.

Ron felt his jeans becoming uncomfortably snug in the groin region and began to wonder if Hermione could feel him. Hermione still felt nervous, but in a moment of bravery – or perhaps, more accurately, lust – moved her hands onto Ron's bottom and drew him as closely as she could.

Ron emitted a loud groan of pleasure when he felt Hermione grope him. His jeans were now threatening to split from the pressure of his erection. Her hands were still on him, so he moved his hands down to cup her bottom as well. He kissed her on the mouth with more passion than he ever had before, still feeling the butterflies but wanting her more than he'd ever wanted anyone or anything. Ron guided Hermione to the nearest bed, still kissing her. He stopped when she stopped. She had backed into the edge of the bed, just catching herself before she nearly fell onto it. Her throaty laughter peeled throughout the room, and Ron couldn't think of a sexier sound.

She let go of Ron and lay herself on the bed. With a wide-eyed look and a sly smirk, she beckoned with her finger for him to join her. Ron took a moment to absorb the sight: his Hermione, reclined on a bed, inviting him to share it with her. This can't be happening, he thought. She wants me to lay with her . . . on a bed. If this is a dream, don't wake me up.

Ron descended, carefully straddling Hermione so he wouldn't jab his knee into her rib or something equally painful. He balanced himself so that his legs wrapped the outside of hers while he leaned on his forearms. He looked down at her face, feeling her rapid heartbeats and her uneven breathing. This was the moment he had waited for what seemed like a lifetime.

"Mione," he whispered while staring into her eyes, "I love you."

Hermione slid her right palm alongside of his neck, then up to his cheek. Blinking back tears, she smiled and whispered back.

"I love you, too."

Their lips met again, and Ron realized he was grinding his crotch against Hermione's. She moved her hands down the sides of his torso, then to the bottom button of his shirt, slowly working her way up. When he realized she was tugging on the sleeves to remove it, he broke away to help her. He knelt above her so they could get it off. He pulled his arms out, then threw the button-down shirt onto the floor. He turned back to Hermione.

Her hands hungrily grabbed his waist, trying to draw him back down to her. She wanted him closer – much closer.

"Wait," he said in a husky voice he didn't initially recognize as his own, "my turn."

Ron eyed Hermione's waist where her form-fitting T-shirt met her jeans. He inched his fingers at a painfully slow pace under her shirt. He caressed her stomach as he slid the shirt up, never breaking eye contact with her. Hermione's breathing was becoming more labored now, and she finally lost patience. She grabbed Ron's hands from the outside so she could help him remove the shirt faster. He got the hint as she arched her back to help him remove the top. She dug her elbows into the mattress so she could sit up and wiggle her arms out of the sleeves. They pulled together to get the T-shirt off over her head, letting it drop from their hands and beside the bed.

Hermione lay back down, her head hitting the pillow and her wild mane spilling all over the place. She smiled so broadly her eyes were almost completely closed. Ron kissed her, and lay on top of her so he could feel his bare chest against her nearly-bare one.

Wait, Ron thought. Contraception. Better check the medicine cabinet.

The thought of pulling away from Hermione was counterintuitive. He wanted to be close to her – closer than he'd ever been to anyone – but he wanted to put off fatherhood for a few years. He needed to be gentle, smooth, suave, but he wasn't sure how. He wasn't even sure if she wanted to go all the way tonight. What they were doing felt amazing in its own right, but he wanted to be responsible. Ron didn't want to do anything to hurt Hermione.

"Ron?" Hermione whispered as he began to kiss around her ear.

"Hmm?" Ron replied.

"Look at me."

Ron turned to face her. She took his face into both of her hands.

"I want you to be my first . . . my only. Ron, please make love to me."

Ron forgot to breathe for a few moments. He then gulped, and remembered once again how to speak.

"I want that, too, but . . . only if you're sure. Are you ready for this?"

"Are you?"

"I don't know. I mean, I haven't done . . . this."

"You haven't?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"No. Wait, you haven't?"

"No."

Ron covered his face as he began to laugh, as did Hermione.

"Well," Ron began, "um, what now?"

"I think we'd better think about protection."

"From what?"

"You know, birth control."

"Yeah. I'm going to go in the bathroom and see if George has anything in that department."

"I'm going to go into my bag and get . . . something."

Ron's face was filled with a sudden sly grin.

"Hermione Jean Granger . . . you planned . . . this?"

"I wanted to be . . . prepared," she whispered into Ron's ear.

Ron kissed Hermione with an equal combination of tenderness and lust before he got off of the bed and headed for the bathroom. As Hermione looked for the contraceptive sponge, Ron rummaged through George's bottles of various potions before he found what he was seeking.

"Let's see . . . Vigor of Venus . . . for long-lasting pleasure . . . not what I'm looking for . . . Aphrodite's Ambrosia for heightened pleasure . . . can't imagine needing that . . . aha . . . Sperm Diverter Serum . . . guaranteed to make your little swimmers go back upstream to protect your partner while allowing maximum pleasure . . . take two capfuls to last twelve hours. Do not use more than ten consecutive days due to possible permanent side effects . . . in case of an erection lasting more than six hours seek a healer immediately."

Ron nervously unscrewed the cap and peeked inside the bottle. It was cobalt blue, thick, and stank like sour milk. He checked the expiration date, which showed it was still good. He filled the cap and looked askance at the contents.

"The things we do for love," Ron muttered. "Down the hatch."

He knocked it back quickly and discovered to his dismay that it tasted just like it smelled. He quickly filled the cap up again and drank the second required dose. He grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste to clean his teeth and tongue so he wouldn't share the repulsive taste with Hermione. It was strong enough it had almost turned him off.

Hermione had finished inserting the sponge a couple of minutes before Ron came back in the room. He slowly walked over to the bed, where Hermione was stretched out seductively in her black lace bra and a matching scrap of lace that was apparently supposed to pass for knickers, though the lack of material made such a label a stretch.

"You took off your jeans and sandals," Ron lamented. "I wanted to do that."

"I'm sorry. I'll remember that for next time."

The idea of a next time – when they were just beginning their first time – gave Ron a much-needed boost of confidence. He began to strip, but accidently fell over when he used one shoe to slide off the other.

Hermione rose and squatted at Ron's side.

"You all right?"

Ron sat up on the floor and faced Hermione.

"I'm good." Ron and Hermione worked together to remove everything but his boxers. They were both down to their underwear now.

Ron took Hermione's hands and led her back towards the bed. He planned on pulling her to him, but he stepped back and looked at her.

"What?" she asked while he looked at her.

It was like Ron was seeing her for the first time. He drank in her long , shapely legs that – contrary to Aunt Muriel's opinion – did NOT have too skinny of ankles. His eyes lingered over the curves of her hip and waist. Ron released her hands and wrapped his hands around her. Her breasts were partially exposed by her demi-cup bra. All those nights they'd spent on the horcrux hunt, when she lay sleeping, they had been covered by a T-shirt or – even worse – a T-shirt and sleeping bag. He thought he'd memorized the shape of her bosom, but his randiest fantasies couldn't hold a candle to the real thing. His right hand inched up as his lips worked their way down her neck. Without realizing it, she'd tilted her head back to grant him access to her neck and breasts. Ron peppered her décolletage with soft kisses while his right hand tentatively grazed over the outside of her bra.

Hermione's hands were caressing the long muscles of Ron's back. Desire was pooling between her legs and longing filled her breasts. She took Ron's hands into hers and moved them to her back.

"Undo my bra," she commanded in a breathy voice.

Ron stopped kissing her cleavage and looked into her eyes, which were burning with lasciviousness. He could only imagine that his own were doing the same.

"How do I . . . ."

Hermione took his left hand and wrapped it around the part near the clasp.

"Hold onto this firmly. This is the part with the hook."

She then directed his right hand so it held another part.

"This has the eye part of the clasp. Hold this part still, and shift the hook part to the right, then out." Hermione continued to hold Ron's hands so he'd know what to do in the future. As he felt his way through it, he maintained eye contact with her until he felt the bra become undone. Hermione let go of Ron's hands and moved her arms in front of her so he could pull her bra off. He stepped back as he pulled, revealing her naked breasts. For the second time that night, he was breathless, reveling in their symmetry.

Hermione had a clearer view now of Ron's erection, barely bound by his boxers. The look on his face while he looked at her nearly naked form, coupled with his evident wantonness, became too much for her. She spun him around, pushed him onto the bed, then straddled him.

"Damn!" Ron exclaimed. "I knew you could be bossy, but this . . . is . . . sexy as . . . ."

Ron didn't get to finish his sentence because Hermione shut him up with a forceful, fiery kiss. She moved his hands to the sides of his head and held his forearms down with hers. He was immobile from the waist up and he found he liked it.

Hermione balanced herself across his hips and was about to grind her crotch against his when she noticed Ron's face was oddly contorted.

"Ron . . . what's wrong?"

"I . . . don't know. I've got to get to the loo."

Hermione backed off so Ron could make a break for the bathroom. After a minute, she heard him loudly emit a string of obscenities. She had an idea of what might have happened, but wasn't sure.

Suddenly feeling more exposed than she was comfortable with, Hermione put on Ron's shirt and crossed the room to the bathroom door.

Ron heard Hermione gently knock. He was angry with himself, and wasn't sure how Hermione would react to the news.

"Ron, are you all right?"

"Umm . . . sort of."

"Are you hurt? Or ill?"

"Well . . . no."

"Then can I come in?

He had filled the tub so he could clean the mess off and the surface of the water was covered with soap bubbles, so he decided he could allow her to enter.

"I suppose."

Hermione slowly opened the door and saw Ron sitting in the filled tub. He looked cross. She knelt down on the tile floor so her head would be level with his, and she folded her arms as they rested on the edge of the tub.

"What happened?"

"I guess the sperm-diverting serum backfired . . . or rather," he looked downward into the tub, "front-fired."

"You mean you — "

"Uh-huh."

"Oh Ron . . . I'm so sorry."

"Not half as sorry as I am. Then again . . . shit – I've disappointed you." Ron turned towards Hermione and took both of her hands into his.

"Ron, don't even think like that. These things happen."

"But this is our first time – or, should I say, was supposed to be. I wanted it to be perfect."

"Maybe that's the trouble – you probably put too much pressure on yourself." Hermione then had a thought.

"Where's the bottle of serum?"

"In the medicine cabinet."

Hermione gave Ron's hands a reassuring squeeze before releasing them, then got up to look for the bottle. She read every word of the fine print and realized what had happened.

"Ooohhh," she said.

"WHAT?" Ron asked, unable to contain his anxiety.

"It says to wait at least an hour before starting foreplay to prevent premature ejaculation."

"FUCK!"

"Or rather, not," Hermione grinned evilly. Ron covered his eyes with his right hand, and finally let out a little laugh of his own.

"The best-laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft agley," Hermione lamented. "But I think we can make lemons out of lemonade."

"How so?" Ron asked in a tone that failed to disguise his skepticism.

"Just stay there. I'll be back in a couple of minutes." Hermione gave Ron a quick kiss on the lips and hurried out of the bathroom.

"Where else am I gonna go?" he called to her.

Hermione came back with her arms full of small candles, which she placed all over the bathroom. She waved her wand to light all of the candles, then waved it again to turn off the bathroom light.

"Much better," she said while smiling at her own handiwork.

"What are you up to?"

Still wearing her panties and his shirt, Hermione climbed into the tub.

"Just when I think you can't be any sexier," Ron uttered barely above a whisper.

Hermione once again straddled Ron's legs, but didn't allow her lap to make contact with his. She leaned over him while gripping the edges of the tub to support herself.

"By my calculations," Hermione began, "we've got 15 minutes before we can pick up where we left off to prevent another . . . accident. Think you can hold out for that long?" She then wrapped her lips around his and captured his tongue with her own.

"I'll try, but you make it hard."

Hermione reached down between Ron's legs.

"I'm certainly trying."

Ron and Hermione had much better luck the second time around, but afterwards needed to engage in some serious spell work to clean up the mess caused by the water they had splashed in the throes of passion. Once their work was done, they crawled into bed, each lying on a side and facing the other.

"You okay?" Ron asked.

Hermione stroked Ron's cheek with her hand.

"Never better," she replied with a broad smile. "You?"

Ron slid his free arm around Hermione's waist and drew her completely against him. He found her eyes in the darkness and stared into them.

"This . . . moment. Us. It's perfect. I don't want it to end."

"It's just beginning," Hermione assured Ron before giving him the last kiss of the night.

They fell asleep in each other's arms, knowing no dream would match what they'd just experienced.