Title: Like Twenty Years Ago
Author: unbroken_halo
Characters/Pairings: Ron/Hermione
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Adolescentism
Other Warnings: hair pulling, partially-clothed sex
Word Count: 2,466
Summary/Description: Ron comes home to an unexpected surprise from the past.
Author's Notes: Thanks to akatnamedeaster for the beta help, I appreciate it greatly. I wanted something dirty-wrong-kinky but it turned out sweeter than I intended.



"Honey, I'm home!" Ron shouted as he exited the Floo then chuckled. Hermione would kill him if she'd heard him. But she wasn't here; in fact, it was a rare thing that she arrived home before he did, more so now that both of the children were at Hogwarts.

Crookshanks the Second wended around his feet and he bent to stroke a palm down the Kneazle's back before straightening.

He hung up his cloak and just stood in the living room for a moment, closing his eyes and enjoying the quiet. It wasn't that he didn't love his children; he did, it was that after the noise and voices at the shop, it was good to come home to the peace and quiet.

Sighing, he headed for the stairs then realized he smelled something cooking. That surprised him, since it was his night for kitchen duty, and he'd intended on calling for take away. He pushed into the kitchen, and there, on the stove was a big pot. He lifted the lid and inhaled the rich, thick tomato-y goodness of a beef stew.

He grabbed the loaf of bread and dipped one piece into the broth, humming as he tasted the spicy juices. Hermione must have set this up before she left. Her technique had improved over the years and he finished off the bread, deciding to shower first before eating any more.

Exiting the kitchen, he climbed the stairs, stopping on the landing when he heard a thud come from the attic. Drawing his wand he looked around, spotting Crookshanks on the stairs behind him. "Got us a little invader, then eh, boy? Maybe a Boggart?"

Crookshanks just purred at him and Ron shook his head, continuing to climb the stairs and peering at the open attic door.

He pushed it open with his wand and stopped in his tracks when he saw her. Swallowing hard, he stared at Hermione. Like always, he thought she was beautiful. Her hair was down, wild like it used to be when they were children. The great brown bushy locks flew about her face and he wanted to bury his own in the huge mass of it.

She never wore it like that anymore. It was always pulled up or pinned back, tamed within an inch of its magical life with potions and creams for when she went to work in her professional world. Now, though, only a thin band kept it off her face and tucked behind her ears. No make-up on her face, and he could see her laugh lines, tiny marks at her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Her sweet, full lips that teased and taunted him with just a glimpse of her perfect teeth.

Ron realized in that moment he hated her hair the way she wore it for work. He had to touch this bygone version of his witch before she put her away again. He took a step closer to her, reaching out for the wild curls and noticed how she was dressed. Her clothing nearly did him in as well and he had to adjust his trousers. Her feet were bare, toes painted in a whimsical shade that must have happened when she, Ginny, Rose and Lily had gone into Muggle London just before school began. 'Girl's day out', he believed they said. It was worth it to see the glittery pink polish on her little toes.

And denims. She was wearing her Muggle denims and Merlin! They were those faded ones she'd put away when she'd become pregnant and couldn't wear any longer. He'd not seen them in years. They definitely fit now, and hugged her body, cupping her arse, like they hadn't when she was just a teenager. Or perhaps they had and he'd just been too stupid to notice.

He certainly took notice now, especially since all she wore these days was huge voluminous robes of a wizarding barrister. They hid every one of Hermione's luscious curves away and lent her an air of anonymity. Respectability. He wanted to pull her to the floor, shred those jeans and have his way with her, respectability be damned.

Ron took another step forward, his eyes still feasting on the sight of her and caught the rest of her outfit. She had on one of his jumpers. An old one, a really old one. It was tight across her chest and rose up on her stomach, exposing her belly. The sleeves stopped just below her elbows, cutting into her skin just a bit.

Molly's jumpers had improved over the years as her children had left the house, but Ron decided this old, harried and ill-fitted one was the best damned jumper his mum had ever made, bar none. Especially when modelled by Hermione.

The knitted yarn clung to her breasts, pulled snug, and the loose stitches gaped on her as it never had on him. Her tummy was showing a bit of softness, but was just as flat as it had been when she had been a girl. Her hand rested on the expanse of it, sun-kissed against the paleness, his ring sparkling on her finger, the tip of which also had that shiny pink polish.

His wife, a beautiful and talented witch, wearing something of his that made her look oh, so young. She looked just like she did after that year on the run and damn, did he want her. He always wanted her, but most especially when she looked like the girl he'd fallen in love with twenty years ago.

Ron looked up and found she was standing in front of a mirror, staring at him, her brown eyes wide. He grinned at her. "You look just like you did when I first realized you were a girl."

Hermione stared at him for a moment longer then burst out laughing. "Hush, you. I'm an old woman, now. Two teenagers under my belt."

Ron shook his head. "Beautiful. My beautiful, smart witch." He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and looking at her in the mirror.

"What did you do?"

Ron buried his face in her hair like he had wanted to when he first saw her. "Nothing," he breathed against her ear and grinned when she shuddered. He rubbed her tummy.

"I came up here to find a Boggart and instead found a sexy witch."

She laughed. "Well, you'd better not tell your wife. I hear she's a real dragon lady."

Ron chuckled and nipped her ear as he slid his hand up under her jumper. He drew in a breath when he found she had no bra on. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple, pinching it lightly when it pebbled under the attention. "My wife? She's a young, naughty, sexy witch."

Hermione moaned and leaned her head back on his shoulder. "Oh?"

"Yeah, she is, though I doubt she thinks so. Don't have any clue why since she's intelligent to boot." Ron kissed her forehead. "I wish I could have seen you like this at Hogwarts. I'd have sneaked you away to some room in the Tower and had my way with you then." Ron slipped his other hand over her jeans, cupping her through the denim and rubbing between her legs.

She snorted even as she arched into him, writhing against his hands and pushing back against his erection. "You wouldn't have dared. I'd have hexed you."

Ron growled and kissed her, hard, forcing his tongue past her lips. He held her tightly to him as she responded, her hands snaking up and holding on to his head while they kissed. He pulled away just enough to breathe, his fingers working the button on her jeans. "I'd have risked it if I'd been smart."

Hermione laughed and nibbled on his lips. "Five points from Gryffindor, Prefect Weasley, for not living up to House qualities."

Ron grunted and spun her around, grabbing her by the jumper as she stumbled and jerked her close. He tugged the top off over her head, trapping her arms in the too tight sleeves. She shrieked and he shushed her. "Don't want old Snape to catch us up here now, do you?" He bent his head and sucked her breast into his mouth.

Hermione gasped and toed up, leaning against him as he suckled on her. She freed herself from the jumper. "Ron," she groaned, her hands once again tangling in his gingery hair and tugging. "Please."

Ron let go of one breast and licked across her chest to the other. "Please what?" he asked, swirling his tongue around her nipple before drawing the peaked flesh back into his mouth. His fingers pushed apart the placket of her jeans, his hand delving inside to stroke across the cotton of her knickers.

"Oh, oh yes," Hermione held his head to her chest, pulling on his hair. "More. I need more of you." She let go of his hair to tug at his hand then on her jeans. "Can you-- oh, gods, Ron, please! Off, I need these off."

"As you wish," Ron let go of her and Hermione tripped over her feet, but immediately caught her balance and grabbed his trousers by the belt loops. Rubbing him through the fabric, she licked her lips and looked up at him. "Hurry. There's not much time until curfew, and if you make me late, I will make you regret it. Snape's detention will seem like child's play."

"Don't say Snape and sex together. I'll get a shrinky winky," Ron groaned and bucked into her hand. He ripped the denim down her hips as she tugged his belt from his waist. She dropped the dragonhide length to the floor and held fast to the buttons as she wriggled out of her jeans.

Giggling and naked except for her knickers, she looked up at him. "Just like this." She opened his trousers, pushed his pants out of the way and withdrew his cock. "Keep the rest of your clothing on. It'll shield me from … anyone who comes along."

Ron arched a brow but nodded, fisting his prick as she backed up against an old trunk. Climbing up, she spread her legs for him, feet braced on the edge of the trunk. Running her fingertips along the thin strip of cotton between her legs, she then crooked her finger at him beckoning him forward.

"Tell me more. What do you want?"

"Just touch me. Like you're exploring." Hermione smiled at him. "How long can we keep this going?"

Ron shrugged and stepped forward, eyeing her then wrapped her legs about his middle. Perfect height. "As long as need be. Now keep quiet. Since this is our patrol route, no one else should be here for a while." He reached between her thighs and grasped her knickers and pulled, tearing the cotton with a loud ripping sound.

Hermione giggled again, then arched as he tugged on the cloth. She bit her lip as Ron's fingers slid over her, inside her, and she moaned. The little fluttering pieces of cotton trailed over her skin with each movement of his fingers and she hissed when he pressed his with thumb against her clit then gently rubbed.

Tightening her legs around his hips, Hermione pulled him closer. "No," she whispered. "Don't be good. I want it clumsy."

Ron nodded and pulled his fingers away, and still holding his cock with his other hand, he pressed against her, rubbing the head over her labia then pressing on her clit before sliding down to just touch the opening of her vagina. Teasing slides up and around her, just gracing her flesh and taunting them both without any real penetration even as he returned to rest against her opening.

Canting her hips, she tried to force him inside but he moved away, sliding his cock lower and missing her completely. She growled at him, and he chuckled. "You wanted clumsy."

Hermione grabbed his shirt and pulled him down on her. "Fuck me now, Ronald Weasley, or you will be sleeping on the sofa… at Harry's."

"So much for making the fantasy last."

"You wouldn't have me any other way."

"That's for damn sure."

With a grunt, Ron shoved himself inside of her. Hermione latched her mouth to his, groaning, and shoving her tongue past his lips. She curled her legs about him even tighter and squeezed him. "Move," she drew back enough to demand.

And yes, this was how he wanted her; snug against him, demanding and bossy. His witch that he'd gone through hell with, and for, had won fair and square. Young, old, smooth or just showing their life on her body, he wanted her. Always.

Within the tight confines of her legs, Ron thrust, hard, then eased back and did so again. Hermione's arse scooted across the top of the trunk with the force. Ron bent his head, suckling on her breasts as he continued to drive his cock into her.

Hermione held his head to her, tugging on his hair as he bit on her breasts. She slid her hands down to cup his neck then clawed at Ron's shirt and his back when he shifted and plunged deeper inside her. Shoving his hand between them, he wedged his thumb against her clit and rubbed in a fast circle, counterpoint to each slow, hard thrust.

Hermione's breath caught, her legs tightened, and the muscles of her body clamped down on his prick as she orgasmed. Little mewling sounds came from her and he let them wash over him as she loosened and he thrust into her one, twice, and then one last time before coming.

Hermione tugged Ron down on top of her and kissed his sweaty forehead twice. "What brought that on?"

Ron lifted up and looked at her, smiling down at her. "I can't appreciate how beautiful my wife is?"

Hermione half-closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm not. Not really."

"Well, you aren't looking through the same eyes then, are you?"

Hermione eyed him and he adjusted his hold on her and stood, cradling her up in his arms. He pivoted and stood in front of the mirror. "See that. That is a beautiful witch. One I have loved for the last twenty years, and will continue to do so for the next twenty and beyond." He kissed her head.

Hermione stared at his rumpled clothing, her wild and tangled hair. The clothing on the floor he'd laid waste to, to get at her then snuggled into his chest. "Well, you do know how to go about making a witch feel loved."

Ron squeezed her tightly. "Always the tone of surprise."

Hermione laughed and pulled his face down for a kiss. "Always."

The End