A/N: As an apology for that Thieves update this morning, here is this smutty-fluffy nonsense!

I have clearly been listening to far too much glitch music... :)

Strobe

This tiny empty room was alive with vibrating beats. He'd ducked inside to escape, scantily clad bodies and screaming nearly-drunk concert goers not exactly a scene he was accustomed to. He might not have minded, but tonight, he'd come here for one reason, and she was currently lost somewhere in a sea of shoulder skin and ripped blue jeans.

And she was leaving him in four days, to go back to Hogwarts.

One song faded out, replaced with a chorus of shouts from the audience. And as the lights dimmed, he looked up, surprised by his own submersion into darkness.

The tops of the walls didn't meet the high, industrial ceiling. And when blinding blue lights faded in for the start of the next song, his tiny, forgotten room was painted half as bright.

The door banged open, revealing Hermione, startled and wincing by her own accidentally forceful entry. She closed the door again, trapping herself securely inside of Ron's small haven, and he grinned down at her.

"Saw you sneaking off," she said, stepping away from the door to move closer to him.

"Don't see how," he said. "Been looking around that crowd for you for ages, and I've got to be at least a foot taller than you..."

"Thirteen inches, actually."

He blinked down at her, shocked.

"How the HELL do you know exactly-"

"Anyway, it's no fun out there without you," and though her tone of voice was lost on him as her last words were clipped off by a crescendo of the music outside, he understood perfectly well by the way she glided closer, eyes never leaving his.

"Can't we go somewhere else?" he shouted, over the music.

She bit her lip, smiling underneath, but she shook her head a fraction. He'd known they couldn't, really...

"Harry's just going through a phase," she said, hardly audible now over unpredictable beats.

"A bloody loud phase..."

Harry had dragged them here. The poor bloke had too much energy these days, perhaps a reflection of his past and the relatively peaceful summer that was coming to a close. He was too damn used to excitement...

Hermione stepped just enough closer to Ron to have to tilt her head back gently to maintain eye contact with him, and she gave him her best sad eyes. The corners of his mouth twitched...

"You weren't having any fun at all?" she asked, but he was smiling now, and she returned it, turning her back on him and withdrawing her wand from her pocket.

"I was having fun," he started, closing the few remaining inches between them and reaching a hand around, placing his palm firmly over her right hipbone, his fingers extending down towards her thigh, over the meeting of hip and leg... "when you were here-" he added, and she gasped as he jerked her backwards, until her arse was pressed against his crotch. He swallowed a groan... "-but then I lost you... and I don't remember much but noise and flashing lights after that." His head drooped over her shoulder, a bit too clouded now by her body tightly pressed along the front of his...

She shivered, and he felt it wave down her from her jaw to her calves, his right cheek now rubbing softly against her left.

The music burst louder, a kick up of jarring rhythms, randomly intervalled. And a strobe light pulsed gently, slow fades between each white flood...

"Scorgify," he heard her say, flicking her wand around the room before repocketing it.

The room instantly cleaned itself, black walls suddenly a deeper colour without the dust and grime of a moment ago. And the floor was now surely clean enough to drink spilled pumpkin juice of off, through a straw...

"Damn," he whispered into her hair, sure she couldn't hear him. "You're too good for me."

But his hands didn't mind, left one in particular, which had inched towards her left upper arm, fingers stretched with too strong a magnetic pull, as he desired what he hadn't yet told his fingers that they could actually have... But then, everything clicked, as the strobe's frequency increased, and his fingertips met her smooth skin, gliding around to rest at her collarbone, and dropping, as she tilted her head back against his shoulder. His hand melted down to form comfortably over the swell of her breast, noting that, through the way-too-soft, way-too-thin cotton of the plain red dress she was wearing, she was most certainly not wearing a bra. Her nipples hardened with just the pressure of his hand covering her, and she was soon twirling around, lightning fast, in his arms, to face him.

The hand that had been stretched over her right hipbone suddenly found itself against the side of her left upper thigh. He dropped it lower as she shot up onto her tiptoes, her hands literally gripping and climbing up the front of his shirt, one after the other. His hand slid to the bottom hem of her dress, at her mid-thigh. And as her fingertips reached his chin, pressing up and tugging, with as much force as fingertips could, to indicate he should move in her direction, his hand tucked itself under the hem of her dress, curving around bare, warm thigh. He met her lips, halfway on the way to his, and he closed his eyes, dragging his hand quickly up her thigh again, underneath her dress, over her bare hip, and finally, to rest at her waist.

"You aren't wearing any knickers," he said into their kiss, lips rubbing against hers with each word.

"Mmmm..." she replied, silencing him completely by crushing his mouth again with her own, tongue running between his lips and meeting his own tongue almost instantly as his hand traveled around and up her bare back, over her spine, still under the soft, pure cotton of her dress.

Her arms were stuck between their bodies, bent at the elbow, fingertips still feathering along his jaw and chin. But they needed to be closer. And she evidently knew that, too. She slipped her arms up, out from between them, to wrap around his neck, flattening her breasts to his chest.

He backed fully into the wall, supporting their weight as he wrapped his left arm around her waist, over her dress, and lifted her off her feet. She hooked her left leg around his right thigh, wedging between his body and the wall.

His right hand moved smoothly back down her spine, out along the curve of her bare arse to press her closer. She groaned and dragged her teeth along his bottom lip as she pulled back from their kiss, sliding back down his body to replant her feet firmly on the floor. As he slowly opened his eyes, it was to view the room alternatively brighter and much darker than he remembered from moments ago.

Flash.

Her eyes lit up, so big and round and bright, and so close to his.

Black.

His heart pounded against her collarbone.

Flash.

The gentle slope of her nose, curve of skin over bone, almost shimmering as he was blinded.

Black.

"Hermione..."

Flash.

Her lips parted as she stared, fixed, at his own lips, dragging her eyes down to-

Black.

He lost her path in the darkness, and he swallowed, shivering down to his knees.

Flash.

His open mouth brushed over the tip of her nose, her eyes cast down as her palms ran south-

Black.

-along his chest, over hardened nipples through his t-shirt.

Flash.

Her own nipples grazed his shirt through the cotton of her dress...

Black.

...as her fingers curled around his belt, moving-

Flash.

-inward, attacking the buckle-

Black.

-and unfastening, like lightning.

Flash.

He was beginning to grow dizzy, music screaming in his ears, and the feeling of Hermione's naked body, separated from him by such thin, pointless cotton... three drinks down, settled in the pit of his stomach, warmth through his torso, radiating now to his ears, which were surely on fire...

Unbuttoning his jeans, she looked up, meeting his eyes through a splash of light. And he felt drugged, dragged into her through glistening, glowing pupils... the way her head tilted back so far, and the way his tilted forward, just as much...

"Hermione... love you..." he mouthed, and he wasn't sure if she'd caught his words at all, unzipping his jeans with a little rip, hands fanning instantly out underneath, to run in opposite directions over boxer cotton, under no-longer-restrictive denim...

Her pupils were so big and black, so deep and still so bright. And the way the blue light mixed with the flash of the strobe...

He lifted his left hand to her right shoulder, sliding the thick cotton strap of her dress down her arm.

"Ron," she breathed, lips visible for a moment in a flash as they caressed his name.

His eyes fixated on the pale plane of her chest, leading down towards the little bit of cleavage that her dress allowed him to see. And as the strap of her dress limped uselessly down, the top swell of her right breast peeked out over the top of red cotton, and he had to bend his knees slightly to keep from locking up and passing out.

"I want you," she panted, "been wanting you all night."

"Fuck..."

"Yes, exactly," she said, bravely, fingers on boxer elastic again. "Is that... is that alright?" she added, almost shyly, and he laughed giddily as he grabbed her suddenly, spinning them around and pinning her against the wall.

"Yeah," he said, left hand reaching behind her right thigh and lifting, until she'd bent her knee and her leg was hitched halfway up his hip. She gasped and looked deeply into his eyes. "Yeah, that's quite alright, I'd say."

She squirmed anxiously against him, shoulder blades carving into the wall behind her as he used his other hand to help her uncover his almost painful erection. Her soft fingers met his burning hot skin, and he pressed himself more firmly against her as she breathed out a thick moan. He dropped his head over hers and breathed against her fringe as she arched her lower back away from the wall as much as she could with his hips grinding into her.

"What are you waiting for?" she panted.

"Nothing," he groaned, and he slid down her for a moment to attach his teeth to the top of her dress, right between her breasts, pulling the fabric down with a yank to reveal her naked breasts, nipples now nearly twice their normal size, straining in his direction. He closed his eyes as he attached his teeth to the right one, and she screamed, shuddering into the wall. He felt her thighs attempt to clench as he rolled his tongue around her nipple before opening his drugged eyes and moving to her left nipple, repeating steps one and two.

"Get - up - here - now," she demanded, suddenly narrowing her eyes down at him as she tried to breathe. And he tilted his head up to grin at her askew hair and passionate face, knowing exactly what she wanted and knowing, at last, that he had always wanted exactly the same thing. Words could not accurately describe what it was like for him to know that she knew that he loved her.. and wanted her.

She tugged at the shoulders of his shirt and he ripped it off as he stood, tossing it over his shoulder without looking back. She grinned at him, actually delighted in his abandon. But when his bare chest flattened against hers, her grin turned to a parted-lip stare, and her legs turned to jelly, feet losing their balance just as he took her thighs in both of his hands, hiking them up his waist and slamming suddenly into her.

She screamed, piercing his ears with her shock and pleasure at being suddenly filled by him. But she managed to lock her ankles at the curve of his lower back as he took her arse in his hands, supporting her as he drove into her.

"Bloody - hell," he panted as he fucked her into the wall, her strong legs forcing him deeper and deeper with each thrust. "You - weren't - kidding..." he groaned.

"About - what?" she shivered, biting his jaw as he squeezed her arse more firmly.

"I'm surprised..." he breathed, "that your dress... wasn't - soaked..."

She laughed out a moan as his chest rubbed up against her nipples, her dress now simply a piece of annoying fabric at her stomach, above her hips...

"You're - so - dirty - Ron," she half-cried, as he slipped out and back into her yet again, her body now reacting on its own, trembling without her control as her upper back rubbed into the smooth wall behind her.

"Youlikeit," he slurred. "We're shagging... in public... and... itwasyouridea..."

"Ohhhh," she moaned as he slammed into her again, and he abandoned all thought and reason as she hungrily sought out his lips, sealing hers around his as her tongue met his, hotly, teeth lightly tapping together as he growled deep in the back of his throat.

When they parted again, it was to breathe back into each other's mouths, eyes locked as he tensed up with overwhelming pleasure.

"Don't - leave - me," he whispered against her lips. "Don't - go."

"Ron..." she whispered, sadly.

And then, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes, he shuddered into her and convulsed against her now-slick body. She breathed in awkward bursts for a moment before sagging against him, quite still, her weight now much less easy for him to withstand.

Gently, he cracked open his eyes again and lowered her feet to the floor, remembering his last words to her as if coming out of a dream. And he felt oddly embarrassed as she re-organized her dress, blinking too slowly, as if drunk.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," he said, quickly, and she looked up into his eyes as she pulled the straps of her dress up her arms.

"What for?" she asked, gently, as the music around them faded to nothing again. And he just noticed that the white light was no longer strobing. He wasn't sure when it had stopped. He'd been too preoccupied...

"I shouldn't have said that." He shook his head and went for his shirt, retrieving it from the floor and pulling it on over his head again. "I want you to do what's best for you," he continued, once he'd re-emerged, "and I know you need to go back to Hogwarts-"

"Oh," she breathed over him, forehead creasing as she moved closer to him again. "Don't be sorry, Ron! I don't want to go, you know."

"Yeah," he shrugged, somehow still shy even after just having shagged her quite thoroughly.

She studied his face for a moment, and he tried not to look upset or disappointed or fearful of her impending departure. He still had four more days...

The crowd outside cheered again at the conclusion of yet another pounding song, and he remained glued to his spot, body almost tingling from making love to her.

"I have a secret for you," she said, after a long moment, and she slid her arms around his waist, drawing her now-clothed body against his t-shirt covered stomach.

"What?" he asked, smiling softly down at her.

She bit her lip as she clearly tried not to grin too broadly, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he waited for her to explain herself.

"I was going to tell you when we got to Grimmauld Place tonight, but it looks like Harry wants to go out for drinks after this and-"

"Really?" Ron cut in, raising his eyebrows.

"Won't be so bad, will it?" she teased, and he grinned back at her, shaking his head.

"Please, continue."

"Yes, so I was going to tell you later on, but I think now is as good a time as any..."

But the music picked up again and the crowd resumed cheering for whatever completely amazing track they were apparently about to be witness to...

Ron chuckled as she glared, affronted by the music's interruption. So he lowered his ear to her mouth, nuzzling the side of her face for a second with his stubble. And she giggled into his ear, lifting a gentle hand to the back of his neck to goosebump his skin with her touch, her fingers feathering into his hair.

"I'm moving into Grimmauld Place, with you, and studying my courses by owl, and taking my N.E.W.T.S. in the spring," she whispered, thickly, into his ear.

"You..." he breathed, where she could not see or hear him, his eyes now wide and searching, peering into the dark, suddenly-red light of the room.

He pulled back to look into her eyes, stunned. But she kept her hand against his neck, her fingers playing with his hair as she let her grin break completely free. He could feel her heart beating lightly against him.

"You're joking," he sighed, eyes darting between hers.

"Why would I joke about that?" she reasoned, still waiting for him to make a proper response.

Which he did. Immediately. And quite completely.

He laughed, cheeks red and instantly sore from the width of his smile. And he picked her up effortlessly, hugging her against his chest as she buried her nose in his neck.

"Fucking brilliant!" he shouted, over the increasing sound of the music. "How did you do it?" He spun her around before lowering her to the floor again, grinning madly down at her, arms still securely around her as she shuffled her feet between his.

"I talked to McGonagall. I'm too old for dormitories," she laughed, "and I can't live without you, even for another few months. It's madness to expect me not to shag you every night and sleep in your bed and walk around the house in your shirts and-"

"Bloody hell," he cut in, swooping down to kiss her firmly before she could say another word.

Hermione was moving in with him! She wasn't going anywhere at all! In four days, she wouldn't be on a train away from him. She'd most likely be waking up naked, next to him, in his amazingly comfortable four poster bed...

When he pulled his lips away from hers again, it was only to shake his head in lingering disbelief, his nose kissing hers before he sighed happily.

The door to their tiny room banged open, and Harry half fell in, followed by an amused looking Ginny.

"Oi!" Harry yelped. "Lookit who I found! Ginny, look! Great, innit!"

Ginny was trying very hard to keep a straight face, but she was failing quite miserably. Harry grinned at Ron and Hermione before winking at Ron and shutting the door again with a flourish.

Ron raised an eyebrow down at Hermione.

"Harry... is pissed," he said.

And they blinked at each other for a moment before bursting into fits of laughter. Once they'd recovered a small semblance of poise, Hermione took his hand, laced their fingers together and tugged.

"Let's get back out there, shall we?" she suggested, a hint of apology in the tilt of her head.

But he couldn't have cared less. He would have jumped off the top of a building, or possibly tied himself happily to a train track at this point. Whatever he was supposed to do, oh, it was fine with him. Because all the time he was doing it, she'd be with him.

He was the luckiest bloke on earth. He had his best mate, his mum's chocolate cake, and the love of his life... who had just proposed she move into his room so they could shag more often. What the fuck else could he ever want or need?

Absolutely nothing.