Special delivery for snarkysweetness Title: Tea for Two Author/Artist: Recipient's LJ name:snarkysweetness Pairing(s): Ron/Hermione Rating: NC-17 Summary When Hermione pops the big question Ron has only one concern. Word Count: 3875 Warnings/Content: Some dirty talk Disclaimer: Totally not JKR. Author's/Artist's notes: Hope you like it, I was trying to show Hermione’s developing sexuality through Ron’s eyes.
“We should get married,” Hermione had mentioned as she briskly stirred her tea.
Ron’s head jerked up, and his hand shook while he attempted to set down his cup without scalding himself. Glancing around to see if anyone else in the Ministry cafeteria had heard this monumental declaration, he was somewhat surprised to discover that the rest of the world had not ceased its normal business at this unexpected turn. Realizing he hadn’t spoken, Ron struggled to think of some response when Hermione continued blithely.
“After all, we’ve been together for a good bit of time now and we’ve gotten settled into our careers.”
It was a bit clinical for a discussion concerning getting married, Ron thought with a frown but Hermione was the logical sort. Still, there should be a bit more to it that that, shouldn’t there be?
“And I do love you so and can’t really stand the thought of not spending the rest of my life with you.”
Neither could Ron, he admitted readily, and he wanted to say “yes,” but all he could think about were all the blokes at Harry’s stag party regaling them with tales of the sex lives of married men. It has started with Anderson drunkenly slurring, “Mark my words, Potter. Nothing kills the female sex drive like wedding cake.”
Everyone had laughed and that probably would have ended it, but then several of the MLE officers had chipped with their experiences, or lack thereof, and it had been like a floodgate of some sort had been opened. Even Robards, for Merlin’s sake, had started talking about going without. Harry, for reasons best not to think about, had just smirked confidently at the suggestions that his sex life was ending.
It had not been the least bit funny to Ron though. He had long known that he wanted Hermione to be his bride. It was this knowledge that led his eighteen year old self to stammer a more than awkward proposal to a Hermione only days away from returning to Hogwarts. She had obviously turned him down with good reason, Ron thought fairly, but even with her careful explanation, it had caused a great deal of awkwardness that only dissipated when she had left school and they were able to see each other often.
Since her return, they had taken things quite slowly so shagging was still a relatively new development; one Ron was not prepared to lose just yet. Knowing that he had to say something, Ron looked into now worried brown eyes fixed on him and said the only thing he could.
“The honor would be mine,” and he meant it, concerns for their fledgling sex life aside.
Her beaming smile warmed him inside, and with a pride he couldn’t quite explain, he grasped her left hand in his and rubbed his thumb lightly over the spot where her ring would lay and grinned. “I reckon we’ll need to get you a ring.”
Hermione’s answering smile grew much warmer and for one wild fantastic moment, Ron wondered if she was actually going to drag him into one of the nearby loos. Sadly, she seemed to master her impulses and instead seemed content to gaze at him for several minutes until the annoying beep of her watch interrupted. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I’ve really got to get back to the office.”
Ron pouted, mostly for show, and instantly felt bad when Hermione’s face fell. Before he could stop her Hermione profusely apologized, “Oh Ron! I don’t want to go now but they're expecting me.”
Feeling the need to make certain she knew he was not angry, Ron stood with her and kissed her warmly on the cheek. “It’s fine, Hermione, really. Now get on with you, you know they’ll be going mental without.”
“Oh, hush you,” Hermione scolded with a swat on his arm and then hurried off towards the corridor that led to the tiny offices that housed the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
Taking one last sip of his now cold tea, Ron walked slowly back to his and Harry’s office, his mind racing. When he arrived, he found Harry staring moodily at the, in Ron’s opinion, oversized picture of Ginny that sat on Harry’s desk. Taken during the last season’s promotional tour, Ginny’s uniform seemed a bit more abbreviated than league regulations allowed and sported the name Potter on the back of the jersey instead of the Weasley that had graced it for her first Quidditch seasons. Finally Harry noticed Ron’s arrival and blinked at him owlishly before asking, “Are you alright, mate?”
“Hermione proposed,” Ron blurted out before swearing to himself and continuing, “Don’t tell George.”
“Wait,” Harry commanded holding both hands up and signaling for Ron to remain quiet. “Hermione proposed to you, not you proposed to Hermione?”
“Well yeah,” Ron admitted grudgingly. “You got a problem with that, Potter?”
“None at all,” Harry smirked. “We all know who wears the pants in that relationship.”
“Oh yeah? I seem to remember over hearing Ginny talking to Hermione about the things you two get up to, and if I were you, I wouldn’t talk about who wears the pants.”
Harry flushed scarlet and Ron decided to drive his point home further. “Besides, I’ll have you know that while I am quite content to let Hermione make most of our decisions, she is more than willing to be very yielding in private.”
Harry paled when Ron stressed the words “willing” and “yielding” and lifted his hands in surrender. Taking mercy on him, Ron walked behind his desk and collapsed into his seat, rubbing both hands over his face.
“You okay?”
“I can’t stop thinking about your stag night,” Ron confessed.
“Well, the two girls in the shower were pretty hard to forget,” Harry noted.
“Not that, you prat,” he growled. “Alright fine,” he continued at Harry’s incredulous expression, “those two were hard to forget, but I was talking about what Anderson said.”
Understanding flashed across Harry’s face and he grimaced in sympathy. “You mean about wedding cake, right?”
When Ron nodded in confirmation, Harry jumped up and eased their door shut. “Look, Ron, I asked around after my stag party and what Anderson said is true, mostly. But it’s not true for everybody and from what I can tell, there’s no way to tell ahead of time so all you can do is hope for the best, yeah?”
“I guess,” Ron answered morosely, “and I do want to marry Hermione.”
“There you go. If you’re really worried, you could talk to Hermione about it.”
Ron barked out a laugh and stared at Harry as if he had grown two heads. “You want me to talk to Hermione about how I’m worried that once we get married and settled down, she’ll be more interested in sitting in bed reading rubbish novels about shagging rather than actually shagging?”
“Okay, maybe not,” Harry admitted.
“I can’t believe you aren’t worried about it.”
“I married a Weasley,” Harry taunted and affected a moderately accurate imitation of Aunt Muriel. “You Weasleys, you breed like gnomes.”
“Batty old cow,” Ron snorted. ‘Wonder if she’ll comment on Hermione’s bad posture and skinny ankles at the wedding?”
“No idea,” Harry answered. “Since we have to patrol the Alley this afternoon, you want to look for a ring?”
“Yeah, how did you pick out the ring you gave Ginny?”
“I got Fleur to help me.”
Ron had teased Harry for a bit as they walked down Diagon Alley, talking with the shopkeepers and generally making their presence known. They had also spent an inordinate amount of time in the Wheezes shop where a crowd of kids clamored for Harry’s autograph and were delighted when the savior of the Wizarding world tested the newest batch of Canary Creams, shrieking with laughter when Canary Harry chased them around the shop.
Once Harry had returned to normal, they continued on their way, stopping in at the Leaky to chat with Hannah, and finished their patrol by checking out the newest broom accessories at Quality Quidditch. Once the patrol was over, Harry led Ron to the shop where he had bought Ginny’s ring. The owner proved annoyingly attentive the minute he laid eyes on Harry and showed Ron a bewildering array of rings, many of which Ron would never be able to afford. After a solid hour of browsing, Ron settled on a plain gold band with a single brilliant diamond that nearly emptied his Gringotts account and then, with the ring safely stowed in his pocket, Ron followed Harry back to the Ministry.
“Beats guard duty at Azkaban, doesn’t it?” Harry remarked as they floo'ed back to the Ministry.
Brushing the dust from his robes, Ron grimaced and nodded. “I still can’t believe the Dementors came back after the war.”
“I can’t believe they were allowed to come back,” Harry spat as they reached their office.
Ron pulled his cloak from the hook behind the door and wished Harry a good night before floo'ing to the shop. As soon as he arrived, Verity shot him a relieved glance and asked if he could bring several boxes of products from the stockroom. This was the start to a very busy and irritating evening catering to the whims of children and even more childish adults. Somehow Ron managed to get through it all by focusing on the fact that George wouldn’t need his help much longer with Angie taking on more and more of the responsibilities for the store.
Mercifully the store emptied at a quarter of nine and Ron promised to watch the front while Verity and George got a start on the tally for the night. So when the bell above the door sounded at five till, Ron was barely able to refrain from swearing and turned from the back counter to find Hermione, pink cheeked and smiling broadly.
“Didn’t expect you to be stopping by,” Ron remarked happily as he walked from behind the counter and dropped a loud kiss on her cheek.
“Well, it's true I try not to be out to late when I have to work the next day but I was thinking we could go somewhere and have a pint.”
Leaning back a bit to look at her better, Ron asked, “Is everything all right, Hermione?”
“Everything is fine,” she answered a little too brightly. “I just thought you’d fancy a drink.”
“Okay now I know something's wrong. You never want to go out and have a drink, and you can’t stand the taste of beer in particular.”
“Oh all right,” Hermione admitted. “I want to talk to you about what’s bothering you.”
“Why do you think something's bothering me? Ron asked suspiciously, his eyes widening comically before he exploded, “Sodding Harry Potter, can’t keep his big mouth shut! I bet he ran right over and started babbling about it.”
“Hush, Ron,” Hermione admonished. “It wasn’t Harry who told me. Ginny did, Harry just told her.”
“Brilliant, just bloody fucking brilliant,” Ron forced out through gritted teeth.
Hermione placed one hand on Ron’s chest and waited until he had mastered his anger before breathing. “Neither of them wanted to tell me, Ron. I went by their flat to ask Ginny to be my Matron of Honor, and neither of them seemed as excited as I thought they would be. I kept asking them what was wrong and finally I got Ginny to tell me.”
“You mean you badgered her into telling you?”
“I did no such thing!” Hermione snapped, “I just happen to be good at getting information.”
Before Ron could reply, the clock on the wall chimed nine and Ron exclaimed, “Thank Merlin!” and locked the door with a flourish.
“Don’t you think we should talk about this?” Hermione asked quietly.
Ron ran a hand through his already messy hair and groaned. “I guess.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’ve been worried about it as well.”
“Really?”
Hermione nodded seriously. “At Ginny’s hen party, a lot of the older women were talking about fending off their husband’s advances and it scared me. I don’t want us to end up not enjoying each other and I don’t want to be one of those women either.”
Ron exhaled loudly and smiled weakly. “I absolutely don’t want to be one of the blokes like at Harry’s stag night. They were joking but they looked absolutely miserable.”
“I did some research.”
“Of course you did,” Ron answered laughingly.
Giving him a sheepish smile, Hermione continued, “It seems that most women find their drive,” her cheeks pinked prettily, “decreasing as they age.”
“So it's just one of those things that happens, but not to blokes?”
“Oh no, it can happen to men as well but not as frequently and not as strongly,” she instructed.
“So that’s it then, we’re going to be reduced to being just like that?” Ron sighed.
Hermione lifted one hand and brushed the fringe from his eyes, waiting until he looked at her. Then she smiled mischievously before admitting, “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“First, answer a question for me. Were you really going to marry me even though you thought I’d get tired of shagging?”
“Of course,” Ron stated indignantly. “I’m crazy about you, have been for ages.”
It was obvious even to Ron that this was the correct answer when Hermione gripped his shirt and pulled him down for a rather intense snog which only ended when she remembered they were standing by the window fronting out onto Diagon Alley and pulled away only to bury her face in his chest.
Finally Hermione took a step back and seemed to be shivering despite the cozy atmosphere in the shop and absently declared, “Your mother has a real talent for potion making.”
Not following her train of thought, Ron ran hand through his hair. “Well yeah, you sort of had to be careful when she offered you tea because she’d put all manner of things in it, from Sleeping Draughts to her extra strength Pepper Up Potions.”
Hermione giggled unexpectedly at his admission and then grinned wickedly. “Those are not the only things your mum puts in tea.”
“Exactly what are you getting at Hermione?” Ron asked warily.
“I was so worried about the stuff I heard at Ginny’s hen night that I asked your mum about it.”
“You asked my mum?” Ron choked. “Calm down, Ron! Your mother is a woman, a married woman, who gave birth to seven children. Did it ever occur to you that she might know a thing or two about keeping passion alive in a marriage?”
Ron’s face paled and it looked for a moment if he was going to retch. Hermione, however, kept talking even in the face of impending eruption. “It turns out you mum has a special sort of tea she and your father drink every morning, that…” Hermione appeared to struggle for the right words to use when talking about his parents, “helps keep their physical relationship strong.”
For a minute, Ron was unable to respond to the information Hermione had provided. Then, noticing that she appeared to be growing increasingly distressed, he managed a wan smile and asked shakily, ‘What’s in it?”
Hermione brightened instantly. “Oh a little of this and a little of that, mostly basic potions ingredients and the items each of us would smell in Amortentia.”
“And it works?”
“Oh, it works,” Hermione insisted, gripping her arms tightly.
“How do you know?” Ron asked curiously.
“Oh,” Hermione flushed scarlet, “well, I had a couple of cups of it as a test before I Apparated here.”
“Oh yeah?” Ron grinned cheekily.
Hermione appeared not to have noticed his sudden improvement in mood and merely nodded. “I don’t think I was suppose to have that much though.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Ron questioned as his smile threatened to split his face.
Briefly Hermione looked lost and then she grabbed both of his arms and pulled him forward, kissing him hard on the mouth. Immediately slipping her tongue into his mouth, Hermione pressed her body hard against Ron’s until he moaned and then slipped from his arms to hold him at arms length.
“Give me fifteen minutes,” Hermione gasped, “and then Apparate straight into my bedroom.”
Ron swallowed hard and nodded wordlessly, but the delicate crack of her apparition had already sounded by the time he had done so. Unable to gather his wits, Ron wandered aimless throughout the shop, straightening the merchandise on the shelves, continuously checking his watch. When ten minutes had passed, Ron nearly jumped out of his skin when the door to the storeroom opened with a bang, and George walked out laughing at something.
“Everything alright, Ron?” George laughed. He tilted his head to the side to eye Ron and asked again, “You okay?”
When his brother nodded, George spoke again, “If you’ve got something to do you can go ahead and leave. I was planning on closing up anyway.”
Glancing at his watch, Ron saw he had only two minutes to go and lifted his cloak off the cloak rack and folded it over his arm. Bidding George good night, Ron took his wand out of his back pocket and forced his anticipation to the back of his mind as he pictured Hermione’s bedroom. He instantly felt the familiar squeeze of apparition though it seemed to be hurling him forward quicker than normal.
Landing hard enough to drive him to his knees, the first thing Ron saw when his vision cleared was the muted tones of the carpet. Then a soft moan reached his ears and he lifted his head to find Hermione kneeling on the bed swathed in white lace and one of her hands moving inside a scrap of white silk masquerading as knickers
Dimly Ron recognized the nightgown she was wearing as something they had spotted in a London storefront. Later that night, Ron had wanked furiously to the thought of Hermione wearing it and now she was kneeling, oh god kneeling, on her bed in it.
Hermione opened heavily lidded eyes and her head lolled to one side as she gasped his name almost reverently and her body trembled.
“Ron, I need you starkers,” his brilliant girlfriend gasped.
Tossing his cloak to the floor, Ron shrugged out of his robes and tore his Cannons t-shirt over his head swiftly. Before he removed his denims though, Ron could not resist the enticing vision Hermione presented and with two long strides was standing beside the bed. His height made it easy to lean forward and slam his mouth down on hers.
Hermione responded by opening her mouth to him instantly and she moaned into his mouth when his tongue slid sinuously against hers. Unable to restrain himself, Ron grasped the wrist of the hand feverishly rubbing her center and before she could object, he removed her hand and replaced it with his own.
Nearly overwhelmed with the feel of his two fingers sliding wetly inside her, Ron tore his mouth from hers and growled, “Fuck you’re so wet,” into her ear.
“Ron,” Hermione cried out and threw her head back even as her hips moved against his hand. Needing to be closer, Ron knelt on the bed beside her and wrapped his other arm around her back as Hermione leaned on him.
Now Ron was able to curve both fingers inside his lover and slid them back and forth so that the heel of his palm pressed against her clit, and she keened in response. Eagerly Hermione rocked her hips in time with the thrust of his fingers and gasped into the skin of his neck, her hand gripping his thigh desperately.
The feel of Hermione’s breath against his neck and the breathy way she gasped his name lit an unconquerable urge in Ron to see her come apart at his hands. “I want you so badly, luv,” Ron managed to groan as he struggled for breath and Hermione’s nails dug harshly into his thigh in response.
One breath, then another, and Hermione’s slickness clamped down hard on Ron’s fingers, and she sunk her teeth into the skin of Ron’s shoulder as her body began to shake uncontrollably. Ron held her tightly as the waves of her orgasm crashed over her, dropping kisses on any piece of her glowing skin he could reach until she sagged bonelessly against him.
Even before Hermione managed to open her eyes, Ron had laid her back and slipped her soaked knickers over her hips and down her legs, pausing only to nip the inside of her thigh as he pulled them off. Hermione’s eyes fluttered open and she reached for him eagerly with both arms as he settled between her thighs. Hermione whimpered when Ron slid into her and when he bent his head to lace covered breast ,her hands slid up his back to grip the back of his head tightly.
Slowly Ron moved over her, taking his time, and reveling in the way Hermione responded until her body arched impatiently under him. Tossing his damp fringe back, Ron increased the speed of his thrusts and captured Hermione’s lips in a kiss so fierce that her lips seemed to have swollen when he pulled back gasping for air.
“Stop teasing me!” Hermione growled.
With a evil grin, Ron stopped his movements while fully buried inside Hermione and nipped her bottom lip between his teeth. “Tell me what you want, luv.”
Eyes cloudy with want, Hermione writhed under Ron and moaned, “I want you to fuck me, Ron. I want you to take what’s yours.”
Never before had Hermione been so blatant about her desires and her words fired Ron’s blood like never before. Slipping an arm under one of her slender legs, Ron lifted it so that it draped over his shoulder and drew his hips back before slamming into her with a force he had never allowed himself to use. His love gasped loudly in response and tossed her head wildly under him. Letting his instincts take over fully for the first time, Ron hammered his cock into Hermione as swiftly and as hard as he could, and felt her welcome each thrust with a thrust of her own. Hermione’s cunt gripped his swollen cock so tightly Ron thought it might burst, and he fought his growing urge to explode inside her.
“Ron…” his thoroughly debauched witch gasped, arching hard under him and shaking wildly as her second orgasm washed over her. “Now Ron, please.”
The sight of Hermione coming apart under him and her desperate pleas were enough to send him over the edge, his body rigid and his cock twitched, emptying deep inside of her. Never had she held him so tightly as all of his muscles seized and when he collapsed on top of her, her hands stroked his back as he fought to return to the living.
After several quiet minutes, Ron lifted his body and pulled out of Hermione, taking her in his arms and rolling on to his back as she moaned in loss. Still struggling to get his breath under control, Ron gasped out, “That was brilliant, luv.”
“It was, wasn’t it,” Hermione admitted, her cheeks a bit pink. She ran her fingernails lightly over his heated skin and looked up at him. “Are you still worried about married life?”
Ron chuckled lightly. “Not in the least, but I’ll never think of tea the same way again.”