A/N: Just some smut, to pass the time (and ease the angst!). Hope you enjoy! :)

By the way, I haven't had time to proofread this - bad! - but I have to leave proper computer access for probably the weekend and didn't want to leave this one sitting around when it was virtually ready to go, so I apologize for any typos and please feel free to alert me to them :)

Eye to Eye

Part 2

They walked all the way up to the Prefects' bathroom in silence, hand in hand. He could feel her warmth radiating towards him, and he wondered if it was easier to sense now that he'd made love to her than it had ever been before. He suspected that it was, and amidst all his re-boiling anger over what they'd lost, he felt renewed strength in all that he'd gained.

They reached the door, and he tugged her sideways, through it. Passwords everywhere were broken, and he dropped her hand to move around the room ahead of her, searching for any signs of danger. It was a habit he wouldn't soon drop, he was certain, and one that felt even more than necessary.

He heard the bath faucets turning on, and he glanced over to see her unscrewing the last one.

"It's alright," she said, softly, but he felt his muscles already tensing again as he prepared himself for anything, checking the stalls before turning back fully towards her where she now stood with her back to him, on the edge of the bath, shyly stripping off her cloak.

He melted just a little as her undershirt bunched at her sides, revealing strips of creamy skin to his hungry eyes. She dropped her old jumper to the tile to join the cloak, rubbing her thighs together briefly as she turned around to face him again.

"All through the winter," she said, softly, "I dreamt constantly of this particular bath."

He smiled at her as his eyes burned, and he slowly stepped closer as he spoke, re-pocketing his wand safely next to where he'd stowed hers.

"Was I there?" he asked, voice scratchy and almost matching the correct tone of his tease, despite this sickness, slowly returning as too much time was passing between a thorough enough distraction to keep his brother's name away from his lips...

"Yes," she nodded, blushing as she played with the hem of her shirt, now resting properly at her waist.

He froze, a few feet away from her, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Really?"

She gave him a tiny nod before looking down, gripping her shirt in both hands, and pulling it up, revealing her stomach again, then her bra, as she arched her back, head disappearing inside torn fabric. She dropped her shirt to the floor, hair frazzling from static, and he watched her skin ripple with a cold shiver at being more exposed than ever before, to his eyes.

Without pause, he tore his own shirt over his head in one fluid swipe, and he stepped closer to her, until he could feel her body heat, inches away. And, very slowly, he moved both hands in from either side of her, closer to her skin as her fingertips crawled up to the top edge of his jeans. His fingers were suddenly against her waist, and he swallowed heavily before looking down, eyes burning between her breasts, along the flat stretch of her stomach as his palms curved around her sides. Her fingers walked up to spark against his own skin, low on his stomach.

This close, he could see every cut and darkening bruise, every scrape and dirty blotch against her paleness. And he looked back up to find her eyes glued to his torso, examining every inch of him as well. He rippled slightly with memories, and he closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to simply feel her hands on him, no furies to overshadow everything new.

Her palms flattened against him, dragging up his chest. He sucked in a deep breath, head falling a fraction backwards from pleasure. But he shivered again as his hands moved up her sides, towards the outer edges of her bra-covered breasts, and his fingers itched to retrieve his wand, to dive through stone and destroy anything that crossed his path.

Funny, for a few brilliant seconds, immediately after he'd shagged her, he'd felt next to nothing at all. Weightless and at absolute ease, and so naturally in love with her, like it had always been the core of his being, and he was truly himself when he could feel it most. But as soon as they'd entered this room, plausible threats had surfaced, chucking him back into the depths she'd drawn him out of minutes earlier inside a sodding broom closet.

He opened his eyes again, because he wanted to see all of her. He wanted to be in control of himself. He could take it...

But her eyes glistened knowingly back into his as he lifted a hand to run two fingers gently down her sternum, almost caressing her twin scars - one, from several years ago, following the Department of Mysteries, and this second, fresh one, from weeks ago, at Malfoy Manor.

Weeks. Bloody hell.

It hadn't been so very long at all, though this year had seemed like another lifetime altogether.

"You're allowed to be angry, Ron," she told him, softly.

"I wish mum hadn't finished off Bellatrix, because I want to fucking kill her myself," he said, as if instantly released of the burden of silence and control he'd taken on mere seconds early. Because she knew him too well and she was too bloody brilliant...

He almost caught the hint of a buried smile as she studied him, something like pride or love or gratitude.

"I want to go back to the night you left and tie you to your bed and steal your wand to stop you from going," she said, and his heart plummeted before she smiled fully up at him.

"I'm so, so sorry, Hermione," he choked.

"I know you are."

He slouched, tilting his head until his neck muscles stretched with the angle and his forehead finally reached hers.

"What else do you want?" she whispered, eyes darting between his, so close they were blurring into one.

"I... I..." he started, sensing what he was going to say without fully being conscious of it. "I want F-Fred back."

She tensed with surprise, surely at hearing Fred's name so soon. And she collided with the front of him, sliding her arms around his waist and clinging tightly, tucking her head under his chin.

"I'm s-so furious, Hermione," he admitted, talking into her hair as he traced her spine with one hand, burying the fingers of his other hand in her thick curls. "I don't want to be like this."

She lifted her head from his chest and tilted up to look at him again, his hand still thickly woven into her hair.

"Did it help, in the broom closet?" she asked, biting her lip.

"Yeah," he laughed. "God, yeah. It helped..."

"Me too," she said, studying him closely again. "It's like... the closer I am to you, the less I feel the pain and-and madness of everything."

"Yeah, exactly," he agreed, reveling in her ability to think things through so thoroughly and to state them so accurately, like shedding real light on something that had been too clouded and confusing for him to work his way through. How did she do that? He might never know.

"Bath's probably full," she said, blinking until he looked over her head to see the sudsy tub nearly overflowing with what looked like it could quite possibly contain heaven.

"Mmm," was all he could manage as they separated from each other. He ripped his belt from his jeans, tossing it noisily to the tile before unbuttoning his jeans and stripping them off his legs. His boxers simply fell to the floor in a frayed bundle. He stepped out of everything and, suddenly blushing and feeling the chill of the room on every single inch of him, he looked up...

...to see Hermione's naked arse descending into the tub.

Bubbles drifted higher and higher up her smooth body as she lowered herself fully into the water before turning around to face him, bubbles clustering over the tops of her breasts.

He realised, immediately, that she was getting a full view of him and he had only seen secret glimpses of her just now. Her scorching eyes were all over his naked body and he scratched the side of his face with shy embarrassment as he tried to casually follow in her footsteps, down the stairs into the steaming bath.

"Not fair," he said, dipping into the bath up to his chest before pushing off the bottom and gliding towards her. "Oh, shit, this feels good," he cut in over his own thoughts, eyelids fluttering as the heat surrounded every inch of him from nipples downward...

He noticed, then, as he moved closer to her, that every one of her exhales was punctuated by a tiny sigh of pleasure, and he managed a grin, even through his complex warring emotions, at how absolutely delightful those little sounds were to him. He'd only heard them for the first time, properly, today... beginning the moment he'd realised they were going to make love for the first time, her legs wrapping around him and-

He swallowed, now completely ready to throw her against the side of the tub.

"Come closer," she asked, voice so small and gentle. And he moved without words in her direction, until the tips of her naked breasts softly touched his own chest as he bent his knees to remain on her level.

He could hardly breathe evenly as she tensed at this new contact. He hadn't actually done things properly, he supposed, inside that broom closet. She'd never removed her bra. He'd never-

She pressed the front of her body to his and gasped almost inaudibly as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her a few inches off the bottom of the tub, eyes on level with each other, so close...

He breathed against her parted lips as his hands smoothed up her back and she closed her eyes, tilting her head to smash her lips against his as her arms shot up around his neck, drawing her naked body up his torso as he melted, groaning heavily into their kiss. As her tongue met his, he reached down and gripped her naked arse, pushing off to drag her backwards through the water, towards the porcelain wall behind her. Soap bubbles climbed into their hair, and he brushed them through her curls as her back came into slick contact with the tile and porcelain of the side of the tub.

She pulled back from their kiss, panting and eyes wide.

"I want you so much," he growled, "but I feel like I'm dreaming."

"We're awake. We're alive, Ron," she said, voice oddly high pitched. "Show me."

She floated against the wall and he parted her legs with his fingers as he sank his teeth lightly into the right side of her neck. He pushed his hips forward and she wrapped her legs around him, loosely, as his hand dipped lower, swirling down through her underwater curls. And he could still feel the wetness there, even through the water, and he easily found his destination by increased heat as his callused fingertips touched her gently.

She gasped thickly and her eyes darted again as he lifted his head to look at her closely.

"Okay?" he whispered, and she could do nothing but nod almost frantically as his heart hammered erratically.

And so, with maybe too much force at first, he pushed two fingers into her, watching with awe as she arched her back and tensed her legs on either side of his hips.

"Fuckin' hell," he growled, as her muscles clenched around his fingers. He slid them slowly out of her and felt her shudder, looking directly at him and allowing him to drown in the fire whiskey coloured pools of her eyes. Pushing his fingers deeply into her again, she shivered violently and moaned out something that closely resembled his name. But then she was melting slightly down the wall, and he positioned his other hand on her hip to steady her as he slipped his fingers all the way back out of her, lifting them to the surface of the water and staring as if he could not believe what he'd just done with them.

She panted, hot breath filling the air between them as he met her eyes again. And such love and lust and fucking trust spilled from every inch of her, radiating towards him like he could be who she wanted, really and truly, and possibly forever...

Sighing out a world of frustration, he attached his teeth to her bottom lip, dragging it down as he left it again, trailing his tongue over her chin, skipping along her neck as she sucked in her stomach. Her breasts moved up to the surface of the water, pink tips just exposed over the crystal clear space around their bodies, soap bubbles keeping their distance from the excitement in a wide circle around them now, as if forced aside to make room...

Dunking his chin underwater, he attached his teeth to her right nipple, biting down gently as she squirmed against him.

"Ron..." she breathed, clenching a fist tightly in his hair as he tasted a bit of soap with hot water around her perfectly smooth skin. And then, placing both hands on her hips, he slid his lips back to the centre of her, rolling his tongue down the middle of her torso as he lowered his head into the water, eyes fluttering shut just before he submerged his head, her other hand joining the first to tangle into his shaggy hair, now underwater in front of her stomach. Eyes still closed, he made his way further down, and the floating, underwater curls he'd reached for earlier tickled his chin before his tongue slid through them, tasting the water mixed with a much more concentrated version of her taste. He felt her whole body react to him as he reached his goal, closing his open mouth around her, sucking and tasting her underneath the water.

He could hear her crying out breathless moans, even as he remained submerged, her hands tugging his hair painfully. But he had to come up for air sometime, and so, with a dramatic and sudden movement, he pushed up onto his feet again, literally sliding his own naked front against hers all the way up, until he'd made waves all around them, blinking water out of his eyes as he re-emerged and unbent his knees to tower over her, pressing his erection between her legs, so close...

"OH, God," she shuddered against him. "Oh, please..."

"Please, what?" he panted, dripping hair falling into his eyes, hands still securely holding her hips in place, her legs tightening around his waist as he stared down at her.

She rolled her eyes. Almost imperceptibly, but he swore he'd seen it. She knew he was baiting her, and she would have none of it. And so, with a sudden thrust of her ankles against his arse, she'd done the first part of the job for him, pushing him halfway into her as her hardened, wet nipples pressed against his naked chest.

"Fuck!" he shouted, suddenly surrounded by the most intense pleasure, almost as if he'd forgotten how good it had actually been, mere minutes ago, the first time he'd been with her like this. And then, he no longer cared that she hadn't responded. He no longer needed her words to tell him what she wanted - she was showing him. He laughed as he ducked his head towards the edge of the tub, over her shoulder, and he gripped her hips more tightly still as he pushed all the way into her, trapping her against the tub wall. "Shit,bloodyhell-" he slurred, before his curses became more theoretical than logical or understandable.

She clung to him as he drove her into the wall, her back rising against the slick tile with each move he made.

"I love you," she cried, tears actually spilling from her eyes as he slammed into her again. He nearly paused, suddenly terrified that he'd hurt her. But she met his eyes and encouraged him by tightening her legs even more so around his waist, placing both palms against his cheeks as he looked into her, touching his burning forehead to hers. "Don't stop."

And so, he didn't. He could feel her, everywhere. Her wet, glistening skin meeting his both under the water and above it. Crystal droplets rolled from the ends of his water-darkened hair, trickling down her neck from his face. And her hair was everywhere, floating in the water around them and swirling against his chest like silky soft seaweed. He kissed her, wet and sloppy and full of everything he couldn't find the words to say. Her bottom lip slid so easily between his, slick from water and salty from her tears, like swollen pillow of hot, rosy skin. His hands slipped around from her hips, gliding between the tile wall and the outward arch of her lower back, pressing her stomach more firmly into his own as he completely buried himself inside of her, overwhelmed.

He could feel mounting pleasure rising too quickly to fend off, and he let it go anyway, her arms wrapping fully around his neck to hold his lips against hers as he came inside of her, shuddering, his chest pulsing as he breathed through his nose, biting down on her soft lip as she clung to him, scraping his shoulder blades with her small fingernails...

He finally separated his lips from hers, merely an inch, and they breathed against each other through their mouths for a long moment afterwards. Unwilling to move out of her just yet, he stayed put, and she seemed reluctant for him to part with her either.

But, at last, she began to droop against the wall, completely exhausted. She opened her eyes to meet his, all blurry and melding into one at this proximity to each other.

He moved his head back far enough to see her face properly - her flushed, beautifully rose-blotchy skin, lips parted as she panted delicately, eyes roaming his face lazily as he gently pulled out of her, sliding her down from his own body until her feet rested on the floor of the tub, underwater, her breasts dropping out of his view again, beneath the surface.

She lowered her arms from around him, only to find his hands under the water, clinging to them as he clung back onto hers. Back still against the wall, she tilted her head until their eyes met again, and he sighed, more content than he had quite possibly ever been. Ever before.

He pressed his lips to hers, not in a kiss, but for a way to get as close as he could, so she could feel his words as much as hear them. And he closed his eyes, mumbling against her skin...

"I love you... Hermione."

She whimpered with true happiness and kissed him lightly, twice... lips so soft and feathering against his. All of his exhaustion from before, from what he should have felt after so many hours of fighting, so much pain and such an overload of emotion... it all came crashing against him, as the waves of the tub around them had before, as they'd been making love.

And when he pulled back away from her again, it was with heavily-lidded, nearly calm eyes. He shook his head, ever so slightly.

"How do you do it?" he asked her. "How do you fix everything with just one look or one touch, just by being here with me?"

"I'd say," she grinned, biting her lip shyly as he dropped her hands to glide back away from her, still staring, entranced, back at her, "that it has a lot more to do with the fact that you just finished shagging me, than it does with my presence in general. Didn't you learn about hormones and what you experience after sex? It's simple science, actually. It's-"

But his laughter cut her off and he couldn't stop grinning as she blushed.

"Come to bed with me," he asked, grinning wider still at the implications of his initially innocent sentence. "Actually just to sleep. Blimey, we've shagged twice and neither time was in a sodding bed."

He turned away from her and she followed with her own grin, moving quickly up behind him until her arms had circled his waist near the stairs, still submerged beneath their warm bath. His knees bent at her touch, closing his eyes to the feeling of her cheek pressed happily to his bare back. And then she'd released him and was leaving him behind to watch her climb out of their bath, water cascading off of her arse as she went. He swallowed, quelling the stir of excitement he felt at seeing her so exposed, just there. He wanted her, all over again. He couldn't help it.

But as she turned to look at him over her shoulder, she actually bloody winked at him, and his heart melted down into a pool of utter goo, making him surely lighter than air. He loved her. He was finally with her. And they had nothing left to fight for. All they had to do now was exist.

And it felt absolutely fucking wonderful.