|Envinyatar (envinyatar15) wrote in envinyatar_fics,|
@ 2007-09-08 21:06:00
|Entry tags:||challenge: exchanges, pairing:hp:hermione/ron, pt:100quills:hp:hermione, pt:15pairings:hp:general, pt:50scenes:hp:general|
[Fic] The Right Thing (Hermione/Ron, NC-17)
Title: The Right Thing
Author: Envinyatar (aka envinyatar15)
Warnings: none besides the obvious
Word Count: 2,244
Summary: Upon her wedding, Hermione contemplates her decision to marry Ron.
Notes: Written as a pinch hit for oops_pig in sexy_brilliance. Thank you to chaotic_vanity. Originally posted here, October 24, 2006.
For 50scenes: #43 entwined, 15pairings: #8 what lies within, 100quills: #13 faith
Hermione was nervous. The muscles in her stomach tightened and relaxed at intervals, and with each cramp that hit her, she felt more and more like fainting. Her inner turmoil didn’t help her physical state either, but worsened it; the world spun around her, and she was losing focus. Her chest felt restricted, too; she couldn’t breathe properly, it hurt too much to draw in the air she needed to stay calm and conscious.
She felt like losing herself.
At this point, she was sitting alone in a dimly lit room, staring holes in the air, while her thoughts rushed through her mind and created nothing but havoc. On one side, she was glad no one was with her, but on the other side, she wished she hadn’t asked Ginny and Tonks to leave her alone. Having someone stay with her would have probably been a wise decision. They could have taken at least part of her anxiety away, reassured her, simply talked to her.
Yes, it would have been a wise decision.
Well, Hermione wasn’t aiming for wise. At the moment, she even questioned why she was sitting here. Had it been a wise decision to agree to this? It had seemed that way when he’d asked, but now she wasn’t so sure anymore.
After all, what if it didn’t work out in the end? What if it had all been an illusion, wonderful while it lasted, but not meant to be for forever? Hermione had always thought that she would take this last step only one time and it would last for the rest of her life. She’d always imagined it would be as perfect as her parents’ relationship had seemed to be.
But what if she realised a few years into her marriage that she couldn’t stay together with him anymore, that their love had vanished into the very air she was currently consulting for advice?
Hermione remembered everything down to the last second she’d spent with Ron. She had a tenacious memory, and it rarely failed her. Many people found it creepy, and sometimes this very memory was a burden to her, but it was at the same time a relief, something that helped her to survive in many a situation.
Her relationship with Ron had begun during their search for the Horcruxes, and it had been a long time in the coming, really. It had been a clear night, and they slept in tents they’d pitched in the woods. Harry had already retired since he was worn out from the last days of searching. She and Ron had remained outside, looking up at the stars and talking quietly about their plans for the future, if this damnable war ever came to end. The night became chillier and chillier, and she’d begun to slightly shake from the cold. Once Ron had noticed that, he had leaned over to give her his pullover. That very moment, something had been ignited; Hermione had caught his eyes, and they’d been been electrified. Nothing but his blue eyes, barely visible in the night’s darkness, had mattered, the rest of the world had faded around her, as clichéd as it might sound. Slowly, ever so slowly, he’d leaned in and grazed her lips with his. He’d become bolder as he’d felt Hermione relax and open up to him; she’d invited his tongue into her mouth by tracing his lips, and he’d answered her call.
Kisses had led to touching, touching had led to shagging. It had been Hermione’s first time, so she’d been insecure at first, but Ron had taken a lot of that from her. Fleetingly she’d wondered where he’d gained his experience; the obvious conclusion had been that he’d slept with Lavender, but Ron hadn’t given her the time to think about this matter and become jealous. He’d teased her with light flicks of his tongue all over her body, and she hadn’t had the strength to hold on to conscious thought for possibly the first time ever.
She’d given herself to him completely that night, and what at first had been desperate sex soon became much more.
No one was surprised when they’d hooked up after all their banter which had only been repressed sexual tension, really. Actually, most people were quite happy to know that those who had lost their right to be children way before their time had found some happiness amid the desperation that surrounded them every day. Many relationships that would have been deemed odd before Voldemort had regained human form were widely accepted in these dark days. Hermione and Ron certainly weren’t among those weird relationships, but still they would have been frowned upon by most of the conservative wizarding society for how open they were about what they shared – and for their missing legitimacy.
After the war, it was clear that especially Molly was happy about their relationship and expected Hermione to become family. She didn’t approve of their living together at all, continually hinting they should make it official, but at first both Ron and Hermione had refused. It had been only slightly more than a year since the war had ended, and for the both of them it had been too early to determine where exactly they were headed; they didn’t want to raise Molly’s hopes for grandchildren too much as long as they didn’t know yet whether they even wanted children. At that point, they had already been together for close to three years, and there weren’t many who understood why they hesitated to marry. It hadn’t mattered, though.
Learning to live again had.
Another two years went by, and Molly had given up on getting them to marry. She’d felt too much resistance coming from them, and finally she’d seen her actions would never let her reach her goal. Ron and Hermione had been able to settle into a quiet and happy life, quite content with their situation. They loved each other, and neither of them felt the need to finalise their bond through the vows of marriage.
Or so Hermione had thought.
One night – they’d been eating a romantic candlelight dinner – Ron had suddenly knelt down in front of her. He’d taken her hand in his, looked her in the eyes, and said she was the person he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. Would she do him the honor of becoming his wife?
Ron had never been powerful with words, Hermione knew that. While it sometimes annoyed her, the simplicity of what he’d said had gotten to her; the look in his eyes, the way he’d been holding her hand, everything had spoken of so much love. She’d frozen when he’d begun his speech, but soon something burst within her, and tears began flooding down her cheeks. She’d agreed by nodding her head in confirmation – her voice had been too thick to speak a word – and they had embraced, clinging to each other for what felt like an eternity. The still – warm meal had been forgotten as they’d begun kissing, light and teasing and loving at first, their lips barely touching, but soon it had become more demanding, rougher. He’d traced her lips with his tongue, and she’d gladly allowed him entrance into her mouth. Their tongues had duelled; their emotions had taken them over, this feeling of losing oneself in all the happiness of one moment filled them.Ron had stood up, raising Hermione with him, and with one look full with desire had asked her to follow him to the bedroom. She had complied by kissing him again, and he’d swooped her up in his arms and walked the short distance to their room. They’d made it there before the need to shed all their clothes and satisfy the heat that had been building in them had overtaken them. However, once they’d reached their destination they’d quickly stripped each other off the too many layers of clothing without ever losing contact of their lips. Mainly, it had been fumbling and laughing breathlessly, roaming each other’s bodies when a piece of clothing had fallen to the floor, and soon they’d been devoid of everything – save their skin and their love for each other.
Completely naked, Hermione had interrupted their kissing for a moment to fall back on the bed and pull Ron with her – and on top of her. He’d been barely able to catch his weight with his arms so he wouldn’t crush her, but he’d managed just so, settling between her legs and resuming their kissing. When he’d regained his balance, he’d let his hands wander of their own accord. His mouth had moved down to her neck to taste her there while his hands had caressed her sides, trailing down to her hips and back up again with a delicate yet firm touch that had made Hermione shiver and moan in anticipation. She’d been wet from the moment they’d begun undressing; she hadn’t wanted this teasing, she’d needed her fiancé – what strange a word! – in her, now. Her hands, previously playing with his short, red hair, had begun roaming his muscular back – well, there’d been one good thing to Quidditch, after all – and quickly reached his arse. She’d used that moment to move against him, rubbing her pelvis against his, placing his cock near her entrance in an unmistakeable invitation.
Ron had groaned and matched her movement, quickly establishing a rhythm that was bound to drive the two of them crazy. Their hands had continued their quests of each other’s body, trailing the scars they’d received during their time on the battlefield with a certainty of where to touch and how to touch that could only come from years together. Sweat had broken out on their bodies, his cock had rubbed against her clit, and the tension in Hermione’s body had heightened. It hadn’t been enough for her, though; she’d still wanted more, needed more, and she hadn’t had her wish fulfilled yet. She knew she’d never get it if she didn’t do something, so she’d done what she rarely did in their love-making: she’d flipped them over, successfully gaining control. Ron had watched her with wide eyes as she’d smirked at her victory and his obvious surprise. Slowly, she’d raised her hips a little bit, positioned herself and, locking her eyes with those of her lover, lowered herself onto his erection, taking him in, enveloping him with her heat and wetness. They’d groaned in unison as their bodies had joined, their eyes still locked. The love they felt for each other was evident, the wonder and deeply-rooted happiness they felt this instant, too.
Slowly, Hermione had begun to move, rocking her hips ever so slightly. With just one look into Ron’s eyes, she saw all the emotions on display there, and the urge to make this a fast and rough encounter was gone, leaving only tenderness in its wake. His hands had guided her in her movements, allowing her to lose herself in the feelings he was creating so deep inside her. She’d been filled, and the sliding of his cock against her walls rebuilt the tension she’d lost when he hadn’t been rubbing against her clit any longer. Soon her rhythm had grown unsteady. She’d clenched around him, their breathing had become more and more irregular, and soon an unbearable heat had shot from Hermione’s core through her body. She’d come with a gasp, and Ron had followed suit, spilling himself into her tightness with a hoarse cry.
Bonelessly Hermione had slumped down on top of him, drained of all her strength and completely relaxed. He’d slipped out of her with one last groan, grabbed his wand from the bedside table as she’d clearly been too exhausted to perform a Cleaning Charm herself. They had exchanged a few more light, loving kisses, whispering, “I love you” all over again, and soon they’d fallen asleep, their limbs entwined, their bodies touching in all places possible. Even in sleep, it seemed, their love shone through.
And now? In the present Hermione questioned whether it was wise to marry the man she loved. Only because she was nervous, and her stomach was fluttering madly.
Well, that wouldn’t hold her back from making her decision for a life with Ron, because now, after reminiscing this particular memory, she knew it was the right thing to do.
There was a knock at the door, interrupting her train of thought, and she looked up as someone entered the room.
“Hermione, are you okay?” an obviously concerned Ginny asked. Hermione nodded her head once. “All right, love, then it’s time for you,” the redhead said with a tentative grin, walking the short distance over to her and giving her a once-over as she stood up. “You look magnificent.”
Hermione smiled, albeit weakly. She still felt as if she would faint every second now, but she wouldn’t allow nerves to get in the way of what she had recognised as right. Ginny turned around and led the way to the door and out to where her future husband was waiting. Hermione smiled again, remembering their last kiss from the night he’d proposed, and touched her lips.
Yes, this was the right thing to do.
She stepped out of the room into the hallway that was leading to where the ceremony would be held, sure she’d be as happy as she could ever get with the decision she made.