Bare

Note: I don't know all of the prefects so hence just made up that Lavender and Parvati are, and also this is set in Year Six – so both Ron and Hermione are of age – but without the whole Lavender/Ron storyline. Also, the layout of the Prefect's bathroom is like the GoF film, with the jacuzzi bath big enough for a few people in it as opposed to single-people baths.

The layout of the Prefect's bathroom was the same for both sexes; a pool-sized bath in the centre of the room with sinks and benches around the side, with mirrors at shoulder level and a door on the right leading to some showers. She had once wondered why there was only one big bath; though there weren't that many Prefects it still seemed a bit odd to have communal bathing. Still, the familiar layout made her feel better about slipping into the Boy's bathroom. In any case, she'd cast a quick spell to check the bathroom was really deserted and as an afterthought cast another spell down the corridor to alert her should anyone approach the door. Walking over to a far corner and tucking her bag under the bench she began taking off her clothes whilst recalling the reason she'd been driven out of the Girl's Prefect's Bathroom. Weary and a little bit lonely from an extra-long, solo study session in the library, she had slipped into the bathroom hoping for a bit of peace when she'd been greeted with loud chatter and obnoxious squealing. Damn Lavender and Parvati. They were sitting in front of the vanity tables – the only difference between the two rooms – and so hadn't seen her but still, she couldn't stay. She trembled with indignant anger as she recalled those high-pitched, grating voices giggling and gossiping meanly to each other. With their snide comments and sly looks she often wondered why that pair had been made Prefects. Shaking her head and rolling her shoulders in an effort to relax, she turned the taps and added bubbles before slipping out of the rest of her clothes quickly.

She was fairly certain that she wouldn't be disturbed unless another girl had the same idea as her, between Prefect duty, Quidditch Practice and Detention – Malfoy didn't learn – the boys were all busy as far as she knew. Stepping in and sinking into the hot water with a small sigh she felt herself finally relax. To be safe she kept her wand on the side, ready to pick up and cast a quick disillusionment spell should the warning spell be activated. Now able to enjoy her bath, she half-groaned at the warmth and comfort she drew from the bubbly water. During her childhood she had loved bath time; it had been one of the only times she could stop thinking, yes, she did actually stop thinking, and just be. The bathroom was at the back of her house looking out on the garden, so if she opened the window and shrank into the bubbles she could hear the gentle sounds of birds and the rustling of the trees. She could lie for hours and just doze peacefully in the water which strangely never grew cold no matter how long she lay in it. A small smile on her lips, she half-closed her eyes and let all of the stresses of the day dissipate, yes, it was bliss. Suddenly she sat up as the tip of her wand lit up. Someone was walking down the corridor. Grabbing her wand and pointing it to herself, ready to cast a disillusionment spell in an instant, she tried to control her breathing; chest heaving and heart thumping harshly with anticipation she licked her lips and watched the door. It opened and she cast the spell under her breath, slumping down further into the bubbles when her furious heart suddenly stopped. Oh God. She'd forgotten he was prefect.

Ron closed the door tiredly before strolling over to the bench and dumping his bag beside it. How could she have forgotten that he was a prefect? She was there when he'd received his badge and letter! He was her best friend, how hadn't she considered his whereabouts when she'd conceived this terrible plan? Inwardly cursing, Hermione stifled a gasp and had to stuff her fist in her mouth as she disturbed the water enough for him to look up and glance around the room suspiciously. She couldn't take her eyes off him, a rare serious expression set on his face as he waited for a moment before turning round again. Hermione forced herself to calm down, she couldn't afford to be found out; her face went red just thinking about the expression that would be displayed on that face if he saw her. Closing her eyes so she couldn't see him stripping she tried to think. How could she escape if she'd stupidly left her things across the room, near to where he was? She could wait until he got in the bath and then slip out, collect her things silently then…well, she couldn't just leave without getting changed, her spell might not last long enough and she just couldn't fathom being exposed like that in the corridors. Maybe if she cast a muffilato and then changed quickly he wouldn't notice? Every option was risky, maybe if she just… She couldn't leave, it was near impossible to do it without giving herself away. As much as the thought of being naked in the same room as her best friend horrified her, the idea of being seen naked by her best friend was even worse. The sounds of clothes falling on the floor made her bite her lip; she felt too ashamed to watch him undress, knowing it to be unfair, especially if he had no idea that she was in there. Breathing calmer, though her heart still thrummed quickly, she decided that she'd just have to keep her eyes closed until he left.

Hearing a clang of metal she was startled into opening her eyes and looking over to the figure who was- God! He was topless now, his smooth and muscular back and shoulders rippling as he discarded his belt onto the bench and bent over to pull down his trousers. A fire sparked in Hermione's gut as her eyes were glued to his arse. Shame and guilt overpowered by curiosity she almost hungrily drunk in this figure clad only in black boxers; she'd noticed that he was tall and lean but now undressed she found herself pleasantly surprised by the hidden details. His legs hadn't really been much of a secret, not after spending a summer of T-shirts and shorts at the Burrow, but somehow in this context they were sexier. Wait, not 'sexier', just…Well, she hadn't exactly been repulsed by his legs when shown them over the summer, not really noticing them. She gulped as she admitted to herself that she'd been trying not to notice them but failing, her eyes drawn to them whenever they were lying on the grass just talking, studying the muscle and wanting to run her hand along his shins to feel the texture of the ginger hairs, then slip them further up to his hips. At that behind, that firm, round arse that she'd noticed only a few times when he'd bent down to pick up something; how it aroused her more with one less layer on, more defined and more- Blushing furiously she quickly dragged her eyes upwards and forced such dirty thoughts out her head. His head and neck weren't new, although she appreciated the connection between his neck and collar bones, thinking it almost elegant. She always noticed his broad shoulders more in his Quidditch gear, the shoulder pads emphasising their size, and when he played she often found her gaze drawn to his torso, sometimes wondering how it would look like bare, how it would feel to press a hand against that solid chest. That milky chest and abdomen made her shiver, with outlined and firm but not exaggerated muscles. He must be strong. What was she thinking? Of course she knew that he was strong. His upper arms were also new. She liked them: not thin but not bulky, they still looked like he could carry her at least a short distance. Gulping she tried not to think about being ins those long, warm arms. A few freckles were dotted on his chest and back, that lean looking back, but apart from his face and forearms he was mostly white. Her own abdomen clenching, she imagined running her hands all over that smooth skin.

Suddenly his fingers were curling round the waistband of his boxers and completely unprepared she found herself staring at him. Staring at…it. For several moments she was without thought or idea, just taking in the sight. She'd never seen… one, in real life but she'd seen diagrams in the books she'd read about puberty and human anatomy. Wizards weren't too hot on sexual education and when she'd realised that she'd taken it upon herself to learn; not just about female puberty but male as well, going as far as to read up on sex and sexual…activities. So she knew what it looked like, in theory. The girls in her dorm, the obnoxious ones, would sometimes talk about sex, spreading ridiculous rumours about people and whether they'd done it or not, as well telling each other absurd 'facts' about sex itself. The amount of times she'd had to suppress an eye-roll at how wrong they were…Anyway, she wasn't a stranger to…all of that. Privately, she'd always considered the penis as ugly and repulsive if not a bit intimidating. But for some reason Ron's made her feel, well, not so much feel as react, react with excitement. As he approached the other side of bath she watched how it moved with the rest of his body and she tensed unconsciously, her whole body fizzing. It was almost the same shade of white all the rest of him, hanging from a cluster of fine ginger hairs. Was it meant to be that big? She had no idea but was almost disappointed as he finally reached the bath edge and lowered himself into the water, losing sight of his cock. His cock, Ron's…Ron's cock she'd just seen Ron's…Oh God!

The guilt washed over her. She'd just perved on her best friend! Not just spied on, almost salivated over him! Over his…privates. She'd violated a sacred rule of friendship, she'd completely betrayed his trust and…She felt terrible. Ron was her best friend and she'd…Well, in her head he was more than a friend. She knew that she loved him in a different way to how she loved Harry. Harry was like a brother to her, she worried about him, felt comfortable with him and wanted to spare his pain. With Ron it was the same but different; she still felt all the same things only…They were more extreme. She didn't worry about him, she obsessed over his safety and wellbeing; she didn't just feel 'comfortable' with him, sometimes when they together she felt like they were the only two people in the world, warm and safe and, well, loved. Even though she'd never received any definite proof that he loved her in the same way, whenever she was in his arms, however briefly, she just felt…like she was home. Her heart always spasamed when Harry was in trouble but with Ron, it felt like her heart was being violently shredded, a constant ripping sensation in her chest that didn't stop until he was safe. She would die for both of them, but she would give anything for Ron to live. And although she'd never seen Harry naked, she somehow knew that if she did, it wouldn't have the same effect on her as Ron just did. Whatever her other feelings towards him, there was no doubt that she was attracted to him. Not even that, she was aroused by him, his body causing so many sensations up and down her own.

No, she had to stop these thoughts. It didn't matter that she found him attractive or loved him; the fact was that he didn't feel any of that towards her. She had to control herself. Hermione, she thought, enough is enough. Closing her eyes and breathing in as deeply as she dared, she tried to conjure up all the feelings she felt whenever he was being annoying or just infuriating. He'd called her a fair amount of names: 'mental', 'bossy', 'know-it-all', trying to bring her down to his level. They argued fiercely and he could be vicious when he wanted to be. And then there were his terrible manners, elbows on the table when eating, talking when eating, eating like a farmyard animal; in short, sometimes he could be downright disgusting. No, not quite disgusting, just…distasteful. And he was so stubborn, never admitting if he was wrong and always trying to twist things to suit him or vindicate himself. He never made enough effort, complaining when he didn't understand things or teasing her for being right. Or worse, gloating when he did something better than her. It happened rarely, but was so annoying when he did. He was so annoying!

The sound of splashing snapped her eyes open again and she couldn't help herself, she just looked at him and was caught. Arms behind his head he had his own eyes closed, a lazy smile stretched across those full lips; suddenly they were back at the Burrow, lying in the shade of the oak tree near the bottom of the garden. They hadn't talked much usually, just enjoying the light breeze and sounds of the countryside, occasionally sharing a small smile with each other. At the time she'd thought that he had been completely at ease, but now, seeing him when he thought he was alone, she knew that she had been mistaken. He looked different to normal. She didn't quite know how; all his mannerisms were the same but there seemed to be something about him, like he had an inner peace. It was mesmerising to witness. Seeing it, she realised that there was always something going on with Ron, some thought or image whirling round in his head. She tilted her head slightly, studying him more intensely. Was it because he didn't completely relax among other people or was it just that he couldn't let his guard down around her? She hoped it was the former. Now seemingly alone, he'd let go and was just being. Like her. Wow, that similarity between them had been unexpected. How many more sides to him hadn't she seen?

As if sliding into more bliss, he sunk slowly under the water till he completely disappeared. All at once relieved she could breathe but anxious she couldn't see where he was, she re-cast the disillusionment spell just in case and waited. Her head was still buzzing with all her revised opinions about him. Suddenly, she just wanted him to hurry up so she could leave. As thrilling and revealing it had all been, a dead weight had begun to grow within her stomach as she was reminded of her own actions. It was definitely time to leave. But where was he? He was taking his sweet time. It must have been at least a minute. Still nothing. Some movement, a few extra bubbles? It was impossible to tell. That familiar ripping sensation beginning to take hold she abandoned all worry over everything other than that stupid boy she'd fallen in love with. Springing off the bath wall she waded as quickly as she could to where he'd been; wand in hand ready to summon him to the surface she felt every nerve pulsing painfully. Stopping and opening her mouth she was severely jolted and splashed by a surge in the water and the sudden reappearance of that red-head. Suppressing a little choke she stared up at him, his face mere inches from hers and, so, so…His hair was a shade darker and plastered over his forehead, water droplets clung to his eye lashes; tracks of water running down his nose and across his cheeks glistened in the light and his lips. God. His lips. She'd always been drawn to them but now, all wet and full and almost glinting as the water dried on them; she couldn't help herself. Toes pushing off the floor she pushed herself up and towards the red beacons, eager and yearning for them.

But all she reached was air. Blinking, she realised that he'd waded back a bit and was now reaching behind him for the towel on the side of the bath. Cursing inwardly and suddenly teary-eyed, she slowly and carefully moved to her side of the bath, not looking at him as he climbed out. The few minutes he took to dry off and get changed were the longest of her life. Clenching her eyes shut and digging her fingernails into her palms, she held back the whimpers clawing up her throat, only breathing out when she heard the door creak open and click shut. Clutching her face in her wet hands she sobbed, a wave of conflicting emotions bombarding her relentlessly. Guilt rose up and crashed against her chest, compressing it and flooding into her stomach where it swirled, twisting into disgust at herself, disgust at what she had done. Then her loins flared again as the image of his alluring body made her shiver all over, drawing a small moan from her as she pressed the heels of her hands further into her eye sockets, trying to stop the barrage of images and tears. It was all too much because she hadn't gotten enough. She'd desperately wanted to taste those lips and she'd missed her chance, feeling horrible for feeling cheated and betrayed. It was hopeless. Would she ever get a chance to taste him? Or even see him, all of him, the real him, again? Gulping she managed to calm her breaths, keeping her eyes closed and noticing the drop in temperature of the water. It wasn't staying warm like it usually did and this thought sobered her more.

Finally she sniffed, wiped her cheeks and breathed in deeply. She was controlled again, she could go out that door and look him in the eye and not fall apart, not burst into tears, not blush, not fall to her feet to beg forgiveness, to beg for a kiss. She was strong, she was Hermione and she could do it. Lifting her head to start getting out of the bath she caught her eye on a figure by the door and gave a strangled cry. Ron was starting at her silently, eyes wide and mouth open.

So, what happens next? I would do a poll but I have a feeling I know what people would vote for, still, don't hesitate to put your requests in reviews because I'm just drafting the next chapter now and am very open to suggestions. Hope you liked it and thanks for reading!

:D