Chapter 13 - Happiness, Part 2

When they reached the corridor which held the entrance to the Room of Requirement, Ron touched Hermione's shoulder lightly and mouthed "I'll do it". She nodded and walked with him, taking his hand as he concentrated on what they needed.

A place to spend the night where no one will find us...

Images flashed through his mind of his perfect place, warm and dark and soft and-

The door revealed itself, and Ron pulled Hermione through, gazing at his creation as the door shut behind them. The room was completely different than it had been before, maroon and chocolate cushions covering the multi-colored woven rug, low chairs with fluffy backs sitting extra close to a stone fireplace, logs already burning and glowing. The room was oddly shaped, no definition to the walls, no logical pattern, and the walls were covered in tapestries, thick and cozy. The bed took up most of the available space that wasn't occupied with the puffy chairs and cushions piled up in a semi circle by the fire. The bed was fluffy and inviting, quilts covering it at random, neatly made up, yet somehow chaotic. Curtains hung from the canopy, chocolate and tan... very unlike the repetitive burgundy cloths that hung from the dormitory beds.

"This is perfect!" Hermione sighed, squeezing Ron's hand. He removed the invisibility cloak from over them and tossed it over the back of one of the chairs.

The room seemed to lull them into a peaceful happiness that radiated from every crevice.

Hermione moved to the fire and knelt before it on top of the cushions. Mesmerized and hypnotized by her glowing silhouette, Ron moved smoothly over to her and knelt beside her, palms against the tightly woven rug.

"It feels like a dream to actually be sitting here with you," Hermione said softly, eyes on the fire.

He watched her, licking and biting his lips as he tried to think of how to respond. It was overwhelming, silence around them, warmth and solitude in this place he'd unconsciously deemed his second home. But like the changing of the room itself, this home could be anywhere, as long as they were together. Did she feel the same way, really? Was it possible? After all this time and she'd said it herself - he'd acted against her wishes by leaving her. So, through all the suffering and not enoughs, it had been enough, in the end. As long as they had this...

Lacking the words he desired, he turned her face towards his with a soft touch of his index finger underneath her chin, and she studied him as her pupils danced in the firelight.

"Does it feel, to you, like we're the only people alive, the only ones left in the world?" she asked.

His lips curved up.

"When we're here, it's so easy to forget everything else..." she breathed.

He nodded.

"And you thought this wasn't enough for me..." she managed through a sad blink.

Lines of guilt made their way across his forehead.

"Well, how do you think I feel? Maybe, someday, this won't be enough for you."

He opened his mouth, but she ran through his protest with more of her delicately sighed out words.

"You're the free one, after all. You could leave again any time you wanted."

"Won't," he said firmly, eyes squinted through thickly furrowed brows. He'd been clear enough earlier, hadn't he. He'd left her for her sake. He never wanted-

"You say that now," Hermione half-whispered with a sad smile.

"Please believe me."

She kissed him, because how could she really believe him after what he'd done? Trust, it seemed, came down to two very different things. There was, perhaps, the way she'd trusted him before - blindly, and without reserve. And now, there was this new kind of trust - a bit hesitant, and most of all, unable to see too far into the future. Sure, she believed him now. She had to feel it in the way he touched her, the way his fingers wound into her hair, the way his lips parted hers...

...and parted from hers, just to say what he feared, to tell her again, because she must know. She must!

"I knew what this would be, between us," he began. "I told you. It didn't matter to me then. It doesn't matter to me now. Just one kiss... would have been enough..."

She shook her head, but kissed him again. His knees dug into the rug as he leaned up onto them to close more distance between them. Her chest met his, her hands on his back, fingers moving up into his hair...

She finally tilted her head back enough to look into his glassy eyes.

"No more talking, okay?" she requested.

He gave her a crooked smile with the left corner of his mouth, and she gave him a full smile, almost a grin. She placed a cold index finger against his lips, and the other corner of his mouth turned up to meet its partner.

He parted his lips and bit her finger gently, and he knew what would happen before it did... she giggled, and his heart soared, weightless through his chest at random, lighting every atom on fire.

She took her finger back from between his teeth, but only to lower her hands to the bottom hem of his shirt, sliding her palms inside, up his goosebump covered flesh. He tore his shirt away from his body, up over his head, disregarding the buttons, and tossed it carelessly somewhere behind him. There really was no point in prolonging her actions, not when they all, clearly, led him exactly where he wanted to end up.

But she had other plans, and she stood before he could stop her. She extended her hand and he took it, standing next to her. She pulled him towards the bed, and gestured for him to climb in first with a flirty tilt of her head.

"Give me your tie," she demanded, standing over the bed and holding out an open palm.

He shuffled back against the headboard and rocked onto his left hip as he removed the tie from his right pocket. Clearing his throat in what felt like a nervous gesture, he leaned away from the headboard long enough to drop the tie into her waiting hand. It somehow excited him to know he could still feel nervous around her, especially now when she knew what she was going to do... and she so clearly wanted to leave him in the dark.

"Lie down, and put your arms out like this," she instructed, extending both arms on either side of her body. Ron raised a questioning eyebrow, but complied without inquiring, stomach fluttering with excitement.

He watched as Hermione held his tie straight in front of her and withdrew her wand. With a quick flick, the tie split in two, and Ron raised his eyebrows as she pocketed her wand and crawled into the bed next to him... over him, straddling him for a moment before leaning towards his right hand. And then, through the haze of fascinated excitement, he realized what she was about to do, a second before she did it.

"Really? This one of your fantasies, tying me up?" he smirked.

She rolled her eyes playfully, not making eye contact as she worked with his right wrist, securing it to the bedpost. Ron shifted around on the mattress as she completed the first half of her task, but she straddled him fully again for a moment, clenching her thighs and glaring to stop him from moving. His smirk turned into a full fledged grin as she finally released him and continued on to his left wrist. He swallowed as he felt his excitement grow with each passing second at the possibilities.

"There," she said, nodding as she looking from his left hand to his right. But her expression quickly morphed into something far too devious, and Ron felt his eyebrows disappear into his fringe as he tried to guess her next move.

"What?" he questioned, voice far too shaky to sound remotely comfortable or confident. But, apparently, she had achieved some sort of goal, because she looked straight into his eyes, her own eyes sparkling with joy.

"Comfortable?" she asked, and he remained fearfully silent, desperately attempting to work out why she'd asked him in order to come up with the correct answer, for his own safety. Somewhat nervously now, he shrugged against the mattress, chest hairs standing on end with electric anticipation.

"Okay, what now?" he asked, because he had to say something. But she leaned forward, hovering over him, and he swallowed again as he waited for the moment when her chest would touch his. Though she was still fully clothed, he certainly wouldn't mind being touched by her breasts just now, as aroused as he suddenly realized he was. But her chest never quite met his, and it was the most incredible thing. He could feel her, though she never once touched him there. Torture.

He moaned, and she grinned wider.

"Bloody hell... just another inch... come on..."

"You want me to touch you?"

He stared into her dancing eyes and blinked.

"Guess," he said sarcastically. She laughed and he squirmed.

She sat up quickly, straddling him again with her strong thighs clenched tight on either side of his.

He opened his mouth to just say anything, anything at all that might come to mind that could possibly convince her to stop her games and shag him already. It wasn't like he didn't think she had the same eventual goal that he did. But before he could speak, she ripped her shirt off and tossed it to the floor.

He swallowed again.

"Come down here..." he half-groaned.

She shook her head, still grinning. And he had an idea.

Without pausing to think about it or give her any clues as to his next move, he bent his legs up rapidly, jostling her and sending her toppling towards him. She just caught herself with her palms to the mattress on either side of his head, just before she crashed completely down on top of him, but for a half-second, her chest met his, and, so tightly squeezed between her legs, he felt much of her body weight land in exactly the spot he wanted her to be... only, maybe he'd prefer it without her knickers and jeans and without his trousers and boxers between them...

Narrowing her eyes, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked a bit too hard as she resumed her position, sitting on top of him.

He sighed shakily.

"At least take something else off..."

"Really?" she asked slowly. "That's what you want?"

He sighed again.

"Not just yet," she said, shaking her head.

"Okay..." he moaned. "Okay. Then what do you want me to do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I've just told you!"

She grinned at his frustration.

He rolled his wrists around in the ties that bound him, trying to loosen them, and miraculously, he found that Hermione's knots hadn't been so tight after all. He was almost positive he could free his right wrist with a few carefully timed and planned twists. But he had to keep her distracted while he gave it a go.

Slowly, she ran a finger up from the waist of his trousers through the hairs that trailed up to his belly button... on up over his stomach and across his sternum. So slowly. So softly, like a feather.

He shivered, but forced a small portion of his brain to stay focused on his secret task.

"Do you like that?" she asked him.

"Oh, yes," he admitted.

She stopped immediately and reached behind her back to unfasten her bra, allowing it to drop onto his stomach before brushing it aside.

The remaining bits of his brain that had managed to work his right wrist halfway out of its binding crashed and froze, eyes glued to her newly exposed breasts.

"Maybe think you'd like to come down here now?" he asked, trousers far too tight. She shook her head. As if he'd been expecting it to be that easy anyway...

She wiggled around on top of him, and he was pretty sure he'd die from a heart attack if he didn't free his wrist soon and force her to end this game. So he managed, with desire at the forefront, to resume his former occupation momentarily and extremely stealthily.

"Okay, so... what's next?" he asked, breathing a bit too quickly. She noticed, and he knew that wasn't good, not when she was toying with him like this. She was getting some sort of sick pleasure out of his pain, he was sure. Not that he didn't think he deserved it after what he'd done. But still! He was ready to end it now.

"I just don't know..." she said slowly, biting her lip, feigning deep thought over her next move.

He was going to scream if this bloody wrist didn't come free-

And then, it did. And, miraculously, the tie half that had bound him fell back between the bed and the wall behind the headboard, lost.

"Hah!" he shouted triumphantly, arm lightning quick, hand attaching itself to her waist. But, with eyes narrowed again, Hermione threw her body backwards, away from him, and managed to free herself from his grasp long enough to crawl down his body, sitting on his feet.

"Cheater!" she huffed indignantly.

"Hermione, you have me tied to a bed and you're torturing me! Blimey..."

"You said you'd do anything," she recalled, eyes still narrowed but a single brow leaping up somehow. It was a bit too adorable, given the circumstances, and Ron paused to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

"Okay," he conceded for a second, "but you didn't forbid me to struggle!"

Maybe it was just to make him feel like less of a wanker for ruining her obvious fantasy. But she huffed again and glared at him and he dropped his arm limply to the mattress in a show of compliance.

"You're driving me mental," he whined, closing his eyes for a moment. And when he opened them, she looked hopefully up at him, moving a bit so she sat on his shins, cautious of his freed arm, but willing to accept that he'd do as she said and not try anything again, if he only said the words. So, shivering, he said them - "I won't try anything again."

"Promise?" she breathed.

He shivered as her naked breasts hung over his thighs as she climbed further up his body.

"Okay, yes," he groaned. "I bloody well promise, but you'd better not torture me for too much longer... or leave me like this all night!"

She grinned.

"Good," she said, and she suddenly jumped up onto her feet and unfastened her jeans, allowing them to drop, then kicking them off the edge of the bed. Well, now he just felt overdressed. But what the hell could he do about it? !

Ron moaned frustratedly. Hermione smiled deviously down at him.

"What do you want, Ron?" she asked him as she straddled him yet again, hands on his chest, moving up so slowly that he thought he would die from impatience.

"Not... gonna... tell you..." Ron managed to choke out.

"Why not?" Hermione asked him innocently.

"Because... you'll not let me have it... on purpose... bloody tease..." Ron clamped his eyes shut in an effort to calm down. It was more than clear that the more worked up he got, the more excited Hermione got... and the more likely she was to drag this out even longer.

He allowed his muscles to relax, as much as they could, and stared at her, waiting for her next move...

"Hm, I'll let you have one thing," she said slowly, biting her lip again, driving him mad.

"One thing? Anything?" he asked, mind already at work to find the perfect request.

"Okay, one little thing," she corrected, wiggling against him again. "And I get to decide if it's okay or not. Ready?"

"Yes, yes... one little thing... okay..."

He thought. And he thought. And he could feel her growing bored of waiting.

Fine by him. She could suffer a bit herself. And that's when it occurred to him...

"Take off the rest of our clothes," he requested.

She studied him skeptically for a long time.

And then, finally, she unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, and he began to second guess his own plan. She pulled down, stopping for a second as something clearly occurred to her... some new idea to torture him with, he felt sure. And yes, he found out how right he'd been when she continued to pull his trousers down... using her teeth.

He forced himself to think of all sorts of things that had nothing to do with Hermione's naked body, her mouth hovering so close to him, grazing up against him once or twice...

It took all the strength he could muster to keep his free right arm still. He clenched his muscles, dug his wrist into the mattress, balled the quilts beneath him up in his fist...

She completed her task after what felt like years, and she sat up to yank his trousers over his feet and toss them over the foot of the bed.

"That's all," she said, "for now."

"Not fair," Ron complained, but he tried to keep his voice as level as possible.

Hermione shrugged and straddled him again. And he third guessed his plan...

"I think I like this," she half-whispered. "You have to do anything I say."

"You'd better be glad your bossiness turns me on..." Ron heard himself mutter. Well, that wasn't strictly to plan...

She grinned.

"I'll lock you up in this room every night," she began, sliding her hands up and down over his stomach, "and only come down here to make love to you and row with you and give you bits of chocolate and bread from the Great Hall."

Ron laughed excitedly.

"Fine with me."

"It's not supposed to be fine with you," Hermione said suddenly, raising an eyebrow. "It's more fun if you put up a fight."

A devious grin formed across Ron's face now.

His plan was finally ready to be enacted.

"Oh, I can do that," he said as she lowered her body over his, taunting him again. "But I may use a slightly different technique..."

"What's that?" Hermione asked as he shifted his hips beneath hers, purposefully giving her a subtle teasing as she tried to remain in charge.

"I have a feeling we both want the same thing..."

Hermione breathed shakily through her mouth now, and he paused to delight in her struggle.

"Well, you've chosen to seduce me and make me suffer. So, I'll just wait. Eventually, you'll lose."

"You aren't that patient," Hermione said, though her tone plainly revealed that she was far from convinced.

"Mm," Ron shrugged lightly against the mattress. "We'll see." He released a fake, over-dramatized yawn, and Hermione blinked at him nervously. "G'night," he added as he closed his eyes, his whole body going limp.

Seconds ticked by. He felt her eyes on him, scandalized by his lack of reaction. She'd wanted him to beg, and he'd done enough of that. Now it was her turn.

"Ron?" she tried tentatively.

He did not respond.

"Prat! I know you aren't asleep!" she shouted, and he could hear the glare she shot at him.

Oh, if he could just keep this up for a few more minutes, he felt sure he'd have her. He tried not to feel too confident though, because a moment later, her weight shifted on top of him, and then lightened considerably before disappearing altogether. He had to focus every second on keeping his eyes shut. He was so curious about what she was doing...

He heard all sorts of rustling, then a jostling of the mattress.

He wanted nothing more than to find out what she was doing!

"Ron!" she shouted. But he didn't move. Fuck, how he wanted to move... Somehow, even the act of tormenting her was tormenting him too. So he couldn't win.

He felt her skin against his legs again, so hot and smooth. Something had to happen, right now, or he would burst.

He heard a muttered spell, and then he felt far colder than he had a second ago, drafty even.

Curiosity fully overwhelmed him. And he cracked open an eye.

"Sod you," Hermione breathed as she settled on top of him again. Completely naked. Both of his eyes opened wide immediately.

"Oh, fuck!" he screamed, unexpected pleasure coursing through him as she slid down on top of him. He was suddenly encased in her warm, wet flesh, and her back arched as she allowed her weight to press him fully into the mattress.

So she'd used a spell to rid him of his boxers.

Shit, he loved her.

He wanted so desperately to touch her, but he was promise-bound not to move. So he locked eyes with her and just let everything sink in, overwhelming him as she moved on top of him. How was it possible that he could feel how much she loved him each time she moved? He could do nothing but let it be possible, even though it wasn't logical. Because he could see it, as clearly as he could see her now, right in front of him.

She reached out to intertwine her fingers with his, sliding his limp, unbound arm across the mattress, closer to her.

"You... won... " she breathed. "Happy?"

"Ohhh... pretty sure we both won."

She squeezed his hand before dropping it. He let it fall to the bed, limp again. But she moaned throatily and slid her hands up his torso.

"I'm unfreezing you," she managed to say through gasps of pleasure. "You're unfrozen."

It took Ron far too long to figure out what the hell she was on about.

"Oh!"

So now, with permission to participate, he clutched her waist with his right hand, thumb pressed tight against her, just above his own skin, meshed with hers. He bent his knees and pushed up into her each time she dropped her weight on top of him. She screamed the first time, surprised for a moment, before her head dropped down to his shoulder, shuddering. But his brief pause as she leaned over him was too much for her.

"Don't stop..." she sighed as she clung to him, pushing her head up finally to lock eyes with him, her face inches above his.

"Couldn't, really," he said, arm wrapping smoothly around her waist.

And neither of them spoke again... until he felt familiar pleasure spasms break out across her back and shoulders as her weight increased on top of him, her face nestled against his neck. He shivered, exhausted, and squeezed her with his free arm.

He laughed. And she bit his neck lightly in protest.

"That was ridiculous," he breathed through his mirth.

"Good ridiculous?" she questioned, mouth muffled against his sensitive skin.

"So good... ridiculous."

He felt her smile against his collarbone.

"Want me to untie you?" she asked, lifting her head.

"Whatever," Ron sighed, closing his eyes. She swatted him gently across the chest as she climbed off of him with an 'oompf.'

"Doesn't matter now you got what you wanted?" she asked, and he grinned, eyes still closed, as she worked to untangle the binding around his left wrist.

"Pretty much," he admitted.

His hand dropped as the tie loosened completely. He felt the mattress shift and opened his eyes to watch her search for something. He blinked, trying not to let himself be pulled too far from the satisfied exhaustion he felt back into giddy anticipation at her naked body hovering around the edges of the bed.

"Ah," she said at last, stooping quickly to pick up her jeans, reaching into the pocket and drawing out her wand. "Accio," she said, aiming her wand at the headboard. Confused for a moment, Ron stared at her with a creased forehead, but he watched as the other half of his tie zoomed into her hand from the floor between the bed and the wall. "Reparo," she said, holding the two pieces together. The tie sealed up as one again, good as new.

She dropped it to the floor and crawled back into bed, untucking the quilts as much as she could with Ron's lanky weight on top of most of them.

"Move," she instructed, nudging him in the ribs with her index finger.

He squirmed away from her, laughing as she yanked the quilts free and cuddled down into them. He joined her quickly, tucking his legs under and scooting up to her until they were touching all over.

She let out a long satisfied breath as her forehead touched his briefly, her hair tickling his cheeks.

"You can't go to Hogsmeade with me, on Valentine's Day," Ron said through a yawn. It wasn't so much a concern as a stated fact. After he'd said it, he wondered if she'd understand, but she looked as happy as she had before, and he watched as she smiled softly at him.

"True, I'll go with Harry. So who will you ask, Weasley?"

He grinned.

"I think I'll invite Crookshanks."

Hermione toed him in the shin.

"Crookshanks hates you," she reasoned.

Ron raised an eyebrow.

"First of all," he began, "you've just now finally admitted what I've been claiming for years. And second, you hated me a long time ago-"

"Did not!"

"-and now you spend your free time chaining me down and shagging me."

She kicked him again, significantly harder. He winced, but smoothly moved past it to continue his speech.

"So, I reckon, perhaps, the same goes for Crookshanks... he may act all tough, but really, he's in love with me."

"Ron, Crookshanks has no interest in shagging you."

Ron tried to look serious, but it took less than a second for him to burst out laughing.

"Maybe you can go to Hogsmeade with Harry," she said, squeezing Ron's wrist and lightly digging in with her nails.

"Ah, true," Ron said, "but then what will you do without either of us for a whole day? !"

"I'm sure I can think of something."

"Aw, but it wouldn't be such a laugh taking Harry to Madam Puddifoot's. Don't reckon he'll ever show his face there again after what happened the last time."

Hermione giggled.

"What?" Ron asked, clueless.

"You and Harry... having tea in that wretched place."

Ron frowned exaggeratedly.

"You were my only hope! If you hate it too, now I'll never get to go!"

"Prat, as if you'd ever take me there. You have better taste than that."

"Why thank you!" Ron exclaimed, grinning again. "However, it must be pointed out that you've developed a habit of calling me 'prat' as often as you call me 'Ron.' Should I be worried?"

"It's your new nickname."

"New?"

She bit his nose and he closed his eyes.

"So, cross off one of your fantasies then?" he asked cheekily as he opened his eyes again.

But she grinned and he melted.

"Yes. So it looks like you're next."

"Next?" His stomach fluttered. "Shall I tell you a bit about my fantasies then?"

"Nope."

He raised his eyebrows. She shrugged.

"I think I've got it."

"Have you?" he asked, skeptically. But he quickly turned nervously curious. "How?"

"Just... you know. I know you."

"What do you think you know?"

"Everything."

He breathed raggedly through his nose.

"You can read my mind."

"Don't be daft," she said, tickling him. He wiggled up the pillow, away from her cold hands.

"I wouldn't put anything past you."

"Smart," she said as her hand stilled and he cautiously resumed his former position, buried in warmth up against Hermione.

He snuggled up even closer to her than before, and she returned the favour, arms and legs twisting and tangling tight.

"We can sleep here on Saturday night."

He blinked at her.

"Really? !" His voice left nothing to be guessed. Two syllables of speech, and yet he was openly thrilled, and fine with it.

"In fact," she continued, breathing slowly as her eyes drooped, "Saturday's a good night to do this, if we're going to keep this up."

"Saturday," he repeated, awed.

"Mm," she said, adopting her thickly logical tone, "because everyone sleeps late on Sunday, see."

"Right... blimey."

He blinked at her again, but found it harder to open his eyes all the way each time they closed.

"Fine line between-" she interrupted her thought with a yawn "-dangerous and overly cautious... for us."

He riddled his way through her words.

"This fits somewhere neatly in the middle." Her eyes closed, but she struggled to open them again, to keep looking at him.

"Couldn't agree more," he breathed, her hair fluttering with his exhale. "Go to sleep."

"Mmm..."

"You're perfect."

Her lips turned up as her eyes slipped shut, and with a final sigh, she settled her body against his and breathed evenly.

With thoughts of fantasies and Saturdays, Ron slept, his world inside the circular breadth of his arms.