Special delivery for shocfix Title: Coming Around Author: Recipient's LJ name:shocfix Pairing(s): Ron/Luna; Ron/Hermione Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 4308 Warnings/Content: None Summary Sometimes loving something means letting it go. Then maybe it will come back to you again, even better than before. Author's notes: Thank you to the amazing D for holding my hand on this from start to finish. I appreciate it so much. Also, thanks to a certain friend of shocolate's for her helpful advice. I hope you enjoy it, shocolate.
Best Man Ron Weasley was watching his little sister and his best friend take their first dance as a married couple. Ginny was beautiful, all done up in a beaded white satin strapless gown with her hair swinging around her shoulders as she moved. Her skin glowed so much she looked as though she might have swallowed the sun. Harry was so puffed up that Ron thought he might very well float away if given a good burst of wind. Harry's hands were flush on Ginny's arse which, married or not, was pretty daring when right in Dad's line of vision. Ginny laughed when Harry dipped her low with his arm holding her waist. He lifted her up again and they kissed for a long time.
Ron's eyes drifted over the mingling guests, pausing for a split second on bridesmaid Luna Lovegood and her new boyfriend Rolf Scamander who were engaged in conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt and his wife. Ron squirmed a little in his chair. Then he continued to scan the room until he found Maid-of-Honor Hermione on the other side of the tent, where she was sitting at a table talking with Bill and a heavily pregnant Fleur, due any day with her second child. Hermione was radiant in that sleeveless lilac satin gown with the neckline that dipped low enough to skirt the tops of her breasts. She toyed with a small silver pendant at her throat while she listened to something Bill was saying.
Eventually Bill cocked his head toward the dance floor now full of couples. He glanced at Fleur, who promptly waved him off with a shake of her head. Then he fixed on Hermione, who hesitated but then nodded and allowed Bill to lead her onto the dance floor where they found a bit of space. She put her hands on Bill's shoulders and he put his hands on her hips. A short distance away, Ginny's head was pillowed on Harry's chest. Harry's lips were nuzzling her hair.
Before he knew it Ron was on his feet, pushing his way through the mess of people on the dance floor. Hermione might not like some of the things he had to tell her, but he couldn't sit by like a sorry git while the rest of his life flew out the window. He was fucking miserable and he wanted his Hermione back. He'd do whatever it took. If that didn't work he'd do something else.
When he reached Bill and Hermione, he cleared his throat. "I'd like to cut in," he said.
"Ron?" Hermione's face was confused.
"She's all yours, little brother," Bill put in with a knowing grin as he released Hermione's arm. Then he stepped away to rejoin his wife.
"We have to talk," Ron said simply. He took Hermione's hand. When she didn't resist, he led her off the dance floor and out of the tent, aware that certain members of his family (Mum, in particular) were following them with their eyes. Hermione's palm was warm and soft. It felt damn good to hold her hand again.
Outside the air was brisk and the sky was full of stars. Hermione squeezed his hand a little tighter as they made their way across the grass to the same tree where she liked to read her books. She followed him without protest, which meant she knew exactly where they were going. That tree was also the first place that he told her he loved her, a few weeks after the war. After he'd said it she cried and laughed all at once. Then they fell into the grass in a tangle of limbs, kissing all afternoon long until Mum had called them in for dinner.
Ron conjured a blanket and gestured for her to sit down. They were far enough away that music from the reception was now a barely discernible hum. Hermione let go of his hand, smoothed her skirt and sat down with her arms loosely folded across her chest. He sat down next to her with his hands twitching in his lap as he fought the urge to touch her.
"Are you cold?" he asked, about ready to shrug off his jacket and give it to her. He wanted to see her in his clothes again. She looked better in a lot of his things than he did, particularly his t-shirts and his boxers, which she wore with the waist rolled over several times. It just about did him in every time she'd done that.
"I'm fine, thanks. What do you want to talk about?" she asked. The uncertainty in her voice made his breath catch in his throat. Her eyes drifted over him for a minute and then she looked past him at something over his shoulder.
"I want us – " he started but then quickly backtracked. "I've been thinking about this a lot. I'd like for us to get back together. I miss you."
Hermione's shoulders straightened. Ron saw what he thought was a faint smile touching her mouth. He felt a tingling sensation as though an egg had broken over his head, its contents trickling down his spine.
"I miss you, too," she said, loosening her arms.
"I mean I really bloody miss you, Hermione. Things don't make sense when we're apart." Ron leaned closer. He let his hand drop onto the blanket, inching closer to her leg while he talked. "Yeah, we've got a lot to work through, but I can't do this alone any more. I want to be with you again. I want us to get married, have a family – eventually - and grow old together."
Hermione's eyes welled with tears but she blinked them back. He watched her throat move as she swallowed. Her face went through a myriad of expressions. A tiny crease formed between her eyes, and her brows folded together.
Blimey, she's beautiful. He didn't know what he'd do if she turned him down.
"Hermione..." he prodded when she didn't speak for a couple of minutes. His heart was a jackhammer in his chest as he thought about what he'd done over the seven months they'd been apart. He scooted his fingers a fraction closer to touch her leg. Electricity coursed through his limbs. "Hermione, please say something."
The breeze picked up a little and it caught in her hair, sending the sweet scent of her honey shampoo into his nostrils. She looked down at his hand on the blanket by her leg and then she put her hand flush on top of his. "You really mean it?" she said.
"Of course I do," he answered earnestly. Meanwhile his mind was reeling. Did I just propose? If it was a proposal, it hadn't gone at all like he would have wanted it to. Not to mention he didn't have a ring. But he wouldn't be expected to have a ring, not when he hadn't expected to propose in the first place, at least, not tonight...bloody hell, he'd have to buy a ring, and he was rubbish at picking out jewelry. Although he supposed he should wait on that until after he talked to her, because he was pretty sure she wouldn't be happy afterward.
Hermione's head tilted to the side and her lips parted in a happy smile. "Okay," she said.
Ron's body nearly convulsed with relief. He instinctively moved forward as he always had done when she gazed at him that way because it meant she wanted him to kiss her. But he couldn't kiss her yet. He pulled back abruptly and cleared his throat. "I have to tell you something first. To clear the air."
She looked startled. "What is it?"
"I want us to start with a clean slate. Now I really need for you to not talk until I'm done. It'll make this a lot easier. Also, promise me you won't leave. At least not before I finish."
"Ron, what in Merlin's name is going on?"
"Just listen to me, all right, Hermione? This is probably the hardest thing I've ever had to tell you and I need to get it out all in one shot, with no interruptions."
Hermione's eyes clouded and her lips pursed. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, straightening her shoulders. Ron suspected that she'd already guessed what he was going to tell her. But she didn't leave, which he interpreted as a good sign. "All right," she said simply.
Taking his cue, Ron started to talk.
Six Months Earlier
They loved each other. But the fact of the matter was they needed a break. It was a perfectly normal circumstance akin to a married couple living apart for a while, to reassess things. The only distinction, obviously, was that he and Hermione weren't married. To her that was part of the problem and Ron sort of agreed although his reasoning differed from hers. The separation was Hermione's idea unsettling, perhaps; confusing, frustrating, and strange. Ron pondered this as he gazed down at the bottom of what had been his second mug of beer.
At least Harry understood. That was one consolation, which told him he wasn't completely mad for going through with this in the first place. Thanks to Harry, even Ginny was starting to come around a bit to see Ron's view on things. That was no small feat, considering Hermione was Ginny's best friend. They tended to side with each other on everything. Ron suspected Ginny knew more intimate details of the situation than she let on, at least from Hermione's perspective.
He and Hermione were so sure of themselves when they started dating right after the war. Although to call it dating was misleading because they never went on an actual 'date' in the traditional sense of the word. They were 'together' since they were eleven, so they continued in that vein only with things cranked up a notch. She let him feel her up under her clothes while he kissed her thoroughly and ravished her with his tongue.
The relationship developed as most did; peppered with disagreements, sex, adjusting to new careers – his as an Auror trainee, hers as an entry-level associate in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, more sex...until suddenly one day it wasn't enough. She wanted to get married, but Ron wasn't ready to do that yet. He didn't see why they had to shake things up when they were doing fine the way they were.
"It's the natural progression of things," she had reasoned. "We've been together for almost three years."
"Why, is there some sort of law dictating couples have to get married after three years? I'm happy the way things are, Hermione. I don't see any reason to change it."
Her eyes had begun to well up with tears, and her chin had jutted out defiantly. "But I'm not happy, Ron. I want more. I need to feel like our relationship is moving forward."
Something had to give, and clearly neither of them was willing to step up. Sometimes those words popped into Ron's head from out of nowhere, killing him a little more inside. That was Hermione, always having to complicate things and make more out of them than they deserved. He loved that about her. But he couldn't commit to her, not yet anyway. He didn't know why; he just couldn't. So he moved out and found a small, serviceable flat a few blocks from the Ministry.
He would have liked to move in with Harry at Grimmauld Place like in the first few months after the war. Unfortunately, Ginny was there all the time. She didn't live with Harry since Mum would have a stroke if they cohabitated before they got married, but she spent pretty much all of her free time from the Harpies there now. The thought of possibly running into his sister in the hallway with her wearing nothing but Harry's t-shirt was not at all appealing. He totally supported them as a couple but he still had limits. He was her big brother, after all and he had a reputation to uphold.
Now he was alone going on six weeks. He hadn't seen or spoken to Hermione since the night they ended things. "It's for the best, Ron," she had said flatly as he prepared to Floo out of their flat for the last time. He didn't say anything back. The only things he heard about her now were through Ginny and even those things were vague, mostly about work, which he guessed was intentional. He didn't ask Ginny for updates, though. He simply waited for her to bring it up.
He wished Kingsley would send him into the field because going back to that empty flat with its woeful lack of furniture (as well as the lack of Hermione) made him want to pitch his mug into the wall. He kidded himself into believing that once he got some more prints on the walls and filled the cupboards it would feel more like home. But the walls remained bare except for the requisite Cannons poster by his bed, and the cupboards were nearly empty because he ate out most nights. The way he saw it there was no point in cooking for only one person.
He still kept a photo of Hermione next to his bed. He'd taken it almost a year after the war. She was sitting under the tree in the backyard of the Burrow wearing a light blue blouse and denim shorts. As always there was a book open in her lap. She was half-smiling, pretending to be annoyed by the interruption but her glowing cheeks gave her away. Ron didn't tell anyone he kept it, and he always put it away if he knew someone was coming over. Although he was pretty sure Harry caught him that one time as he tried to slip it into the drawer of his nightstand. True to form, he didn't say a word about it. Instead he suggested they should go out for a pint, bless him. Harry was the best. He would always have Harry, which was very comforting right about now.
Staring at his empty mug, Ron thought about calling Harry to join him. He checked the clock, but it was nearly midnight already. Besides Harry was too responsible to drink on a weeknight, and odds were good that Ginny was with him. Technically Ron wasn't supposed to be drinking either. Begrudgingly he decided that he ought to get back to the flat to sleep things off. Leaving some galleons on the bar, he retrieved his cloak, flipped up the hood, and headed out into the lightly falling snow. He could very well have Apparated, but he was in no rush to get back and in his state the probability of splinching was a bit high. The cold air would help clear his senses.
* * *
Six days later he was trudging through the snow again only it wasn't in London and he wasn't alone. As he ducked his head against the wind, Ron couldn't help but consider the old adage cautioning people to be careful what they wished for because it didn't always turn out how they expected.
The cabin had to be close by; they'd tracked its coordinates meticulously, and yet well more than the estimated three hours' walking time had passed with still no sign of it. Behind him an airy melody wafted past his ears. His companion was humming again. She liked humming, and he couldn't very well fault her for that. How she could stand to keep her spirits up in this weather, though, was something he couldn't wrap his head around – not to mention it only made him more aware of how his own spirits were at an all-time low.
Footsteps crunched in the snow until she was right next to him. She wore a bright green hat with earflaps, which matched her thick wool coat and furry boots. Her hair was in a single plait down her back, the end of it brushing the hem of her coat.
"Hullo, Ron," she said, as if they had just casually bumped into each other in the middle of nowhere along a desolate stretch of the Himalayan Mountains.
Ron's instinct was to say nothing but it wasn't Luna's fault he was in a sour mood, after all. Moreover she had requested his presence on this excursion; most of the time she was an independent researcher and regular columnist for The Quibbler. Once in awhile, to supplement her work, she went on Ministry-related scouting trips to follow up on sightings of rare creatures. Normally, she went alone or with another member of the Department of Magical Creatures, but given the dangerous nature of the mission, Ministry protocol necessitated that someone from the Aurors accompany her.
Even though Ron wasn't thrilled with the location or the purpose of the trip, which was to look into reports of random unprovoked Yeti attacks on Himalayan villages, the fact that she asked for him specifically was gratifying. When special Auror protection was necessary, nine times out of ten it meant that Harry was the one requested. Even after three years, people still wanted Harry. Ron expected they always would. He was used to it. But Luna wanted him, and he liked that.
"Hullo, Luna."
"How are you?"
Ron's breath swirled in milky tendrils of smoke around his mouth and evaporated. "Cold," he answered unnecessarily.
"Don't worry, we should be at the cabin soon."
"How soon?"
"Soon. Thank you for coming with me. I'm sure there are other places you would much rather be."
Of course he automatically thought of Hermione when she said that. Ron started, momentarily losing his focus. "No problem," he said vaguely.
Then Luna wrapped her hand around his arm and rested her head on his bicep, leaning on him while they walked. Ron felt as though he was being warmed from within. "We're almost there," Luna said evenly. Not thirty seconds later a small wood cabin suddenly appeared, nestled in a pocket of trees. Although it inclined to the side a little bit, due no doubt to years of extreme weather, it was holding its own against the wind and snow.
"That will do for the night," Luna said, and when Ron glanced down she was gazing at him with peaceful certainty.
"It'll do," he answered. The heat inside his body crackled like sparks shooting from a fire.
* * *
He wasn't planning to kiss her.
They had been discussing Yeti sightings for at least an hour when Luna announced she was tired and wanted to go to bed. She said goodnight and leaned in to kiss his cheek. It was completely innocent until he impulsively turned his head to say something – he couldn't remember what, maybe it was goodnight – and their mouths touched. Her breath smelled of lemons and spices. Her hair, which she had released from the plait, tickled his skin like strands of silken thread. He was overwhelmed with a rush of feelings he couldn't explain and he kissed her again.
She whimpered when he parted her teeth with his tongue, and then she lay back on the cot with her flannel nightgown pushed up to her thighs. Her nipples were hard. He slid his hand roughly up her inner thigh to find her clit. He touched her through her cotton knickers and her body shuddered. She gave a little yelp of what he interpreted as pleasure. She was wet. Not only that, she was wet for him. He wasn't sexually attracted to her but she was strikingly pretty, willing, and right now his cock was stiff as a board. It had been more than a month since Hermione. He was so horny and lonely and would explode any second.
Then the fire in the fireplace shot off a series of sparks. Taking this as a sign he shoved down his pyjamas and withdrew his cock. He cradled it in his right hand. It was angry, swollen, and red with veins popping out. A little pre-come glistened at the tip.
"You have a lovely penis, Ron."
His face burned with heat that had nothing to do with the fire. "Thanks, Luna."
"Would you like to shag now? Because I'd really like to."
Ron cleared his throat. "Yeah, I do."
Luna settled farther into the pillow. She pushed down her knickers and opened her legs. The triangle of hair was the exact same shade as the hair on her head. It glowed in the firelight. Her skin was milky white, completely unblemished save for a small, unusually shaped birthmark on her left hipbone that to Ron looked sort of like a rabbit. Ron positioned his cock over her and slid inside. She was smooth as silk. Her ankles locked right underneath his arse.
Luna dropped a hand to fondle her clit. While he slowly pumped in and out of her, Ron watched her fingers roll over the swollen bead. He pushed up the nightgown to expose her breasts. They were medium-sized, not much smaller than Hermione's. Her nipples were cherry red and the circles around them were small. She arched her chest into his hand. He pushed back, opening his fingers to pinch her nipple. A high keening sound escaped her lips.
"This is wonderful," she sighed. Her hips wiggled underneath him. Ron took her legs and positioned them on his shoulders, then pushed forward with his hips and plunged even deeper into her. He heard her slight intake of air followed by a hiss. Her fingers brushed the base of his cock.
"Oh fuck..." Ron moaned as the pressure built. He threw his head back. Then his hips gave one more resounding jerk and he came inside her. Luna's fingers moved with ferocity over her clit. She gasped, her hips tightening for a moment before she wilted underneath him. She reached up and rifled the stray fringe off his forehead.
"You're quite a brilliant lover, Ron," she said. Her eyes locked on his with an unexpected intensity. "You put so much energy into your shagging. It feels very pleasant. In fact I'd very much like to try it again, if you don't mind."
Ron didn't mind at all.
* * *
When Ron finished talking, he expected Hermione to start crying, unleash the canaries, or at the very least storm away from him. Obviously he omitted all of the explicit details regarding the sex with Luna, but that still didn't make it any easier for Hermione to hear. He considered telling her that the sex was okay but still not as good as it was with her, but even he knew by now that would not go over very well. In some cases, the less that was said the better.
For what seemed like forever Ron watched Hermione's face for a hint about what she was thinking. The urge to say something to fill the silence was overwhelming.
Then something happened that he didn't expect at all. "Thank you for telling me, Ron," she said finally. Her eyes looked sad, and he could see the disappointment on her face. But that lasted only a few seconds before she kissed him. Her lips were sweet, carrying a hint of champagne. Her tongue tasted like sugar when it slipped into his mouth.
He held her head in his hands while he kissed her back fiercely. When they broke apart he looked at her, confused. "I don't get it," he said.
"Don't get what?" she asked. "I'm not going to lie and say I'm not sad about what you told me, Ron, but we weren't together when you – " she cleared her throat "—so I've no right to be upset with you about it. Nor am I upset with Luna, either. She has Rolf now, and you...well, you have me." She smiled softly. Ron's heart just about melted into his feet.
"It didn't mean anything, Hermione. It was only – " He didn't know why he still felt the need to explain, but it was important that she knew exactly where he stood. She had to know how much he loved her, and that he would never ever be that stupid about their relationship again.
Hermione didn't let him finish. She climbed into his lap, hiked up her skirt and straddled him with her thighs. She covered his mouth with hers, kissing him for a long time. He put his hands on her breasts, cradling them through her dress, and felt her nipples rose against his palms. It was the best kiss of his entire life.
"I don't want to know any more about it, Ronald," she said in a coarse whisper. She swept her fingers through his hair sending prickly heat rushing down his spine into his groin. His cock swelled. He was sure she could feel it, and she confirmed his suspicions by rolling her hips forward onto the bulge. "Not one word. Promise?"
"I promise."
"Now, I have something to ask you," she said. She tilted his head up. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, will you marry me?" Her voice trembled and her eyes glimmered with tears, but she was beaming. The sight of her took his breath away.
"Hell yes," Ron answered emphatically. He was grinning so hard his cheeks started to ache. Hermione laughed even as the tears rolled down her cheeks. He kissed her again while he eased her down onto the blanket and hiked the dress up to her hips. He fit one hand between her legs, stroking her warm mound through the silken knickers. The whimper that rose from her lips was heaven to his ears. "I love you, Hermione."
"I know," she answered with a little smile. "Now why don't you show me how much?"