Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“More,” I demand breathlessly. “More, please!”

Ever the intuitive lover, he knows exactly what I need. One large hand gathers a handful of my long, curly hair and tugs, pulling my head almost painfully far back, and the other hand wraps around my throat, putting just the right amount of pressure—constricting my airflow, but not cutting it off.

“Yes,” I hiss as he pounds into me from behind, his pace relentless. His perfect cock hitting places deep inside me that should be illegal. My toes curl and my fingers grip the sheets as I hang on for dear life. My room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping on skin, grunts, and moans, and the smell of sex hangs heavily in the air.

We’ve been at it for hours.

“Fuck, Mione!”

“Close,” I gasp. “So close!”

He releases his grip on my hair and I almost lung forward from his force, so I push back to keep our connection, meeting him stroke for vicious stroke.

Then he pulls out the magic move. His long fingers start tapping on my swollen clit, and I absolutely explode.

“RON!”

I am sure my roommates can hear me, but I can’t even bring myself to care, this orgasm is way too glorious. I scream and gasp as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over me.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Ron groans behind me as I feel him twitch and then spill inside me. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants. “Fuck, yes.”

I slump forward onto my chest, my sheets damp and twisted under me and smile what I know is likely a delirious-looking smile. “Mmm, Ron. So good.”

He pants over me, barely holding up his weight on his arms which are on either side of me. His cheek rests on my bare back as he tries to catch his breath.

“Fuck, I love you.”

I breathe out a laugh. “I love you, too.”

And I do love him. So much. I just wish he truly loved me too…but I know those are words we only utter after the most intense orgasms.

Pity.

Moments later I’m sprawled out on my sheets still naked, watching Ron pull his joggers up to hide my absolute favorite part of him.

Again…pity.

“Why are you getting dressed?” I ask. “I thought you had all day to hang out with me.”

Ron winces then sighs, resting his hands on his hips—his ‘I’m about to say something you’re not going to like’ pose.

“Lavender’s been bugging me all day.” I roll my eyes, instantly annoyed. At the very mention of his girlfriend’s name, the warmness in the room disappears. I pull my blanket over me like a shield…probably to protect me from my shame. “I uh…told her I’d come to watch a movie with her to shut her up.” He shrugs apologetically.

“Fine,” I shrug right back. “Better not keep her waiting, I suppose.” I stand and start to make my way to my bathroom.

“M’sorry,” Ron says grabbing my arm. “I know I said I’d stay, but I had no good reason to give her why I couldn’t come over.”

I scoff.

“What was I supposed to say, Hermione?” Ron throws his hands up. “ ‘Sorry, I can’t come see you tonight because I’m too busy fucking my best friend’s brains out??’ I can barely even tell her I’m hanging out with you without having to hear her complain.”

“Not my fault she hates me,” I roll my eyes. “Not that I’ve ever given her a reason to.”

Ron pulls me into his arms and kisses my neck. I immediately melt into his embrace because he knows exactly how to bend me to his will.

Bloody git.

“It can’t possibly be because you ride her boyfriend’s cock almost every night,” he murmurs into my skin. “And ride it very,” kiss, “very,” kiss, “well.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t know that,” I say, gaining the will to push him off of me. “Does she?”

Ron steps back and shrugs, running a hand through his soft red hair—hair I’d had my fingers buried in less than an hour ago as he devoured my sex. “She doesn’t know for sure, but you know she doesn’t like how close we are. And the rumors that always follow us.”

“Well, she can relax,” I sit back on the bed and lean back on my arms, my blanket which had been wrapped around me falls to my waist. I relish the way Ron’s bright blue eyes darken as he openly ogles my breasts. He’s always loved my breasts.

My nipples tighten under his gaze and I wonder if I can squeeze in just one more round before he leaves. Maybe if I drop to my knees and-

Focus Granger.

“I have a boyfriend,” I continue, “so I’m not out to steal hers. Besides, Ernie doesn’t hate you despite all the delicious things you do to his girlfriend.”

At the mention of my boyfriend’s name, Ron’s gaze snaps up to mine, and his jaw ticks. I suppress the urge to smile in victory at what could possibly be a hint of jealousy.

One point-Granger.

He schools his expression quickly, though, and tsks. “Maybe if Mr. McMillan would learn basic female anatomy, his girlfriend would be well satisfied and not begging her best friend for-”

“I do not beg!” I jump up and get in Ron’s face as much as I can, given the foot difference in our height. Even though Ron towers over me, he flinches at my sudden approach but then eases his expression into a lop-sided grin.

I fucking hate that grin.

“Oh, please, Ron! Fuck me, please!” he says in a poorly executed impression of my voice. “I need you! I’m begging you!”

I cross my arms and glare at him. “I have never once said I’m begging you.” His eyes flick to my breasts again and I raise an eyebrow.

Ron takes a step forward and encroaches on my space. I have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. “You get on your knees, though.” His voice is back to its usual deep, sexy timber—even deeper than usual given the renewed sexual tension in the room. “Would you consider that begging?”

“You get on your knees, too,” I challenge.

He nods. “I do. But if you recall, I already did today. In the shower.”

“So, you’re saying it’s my turn?” I raise my chin higher, my face giving nothing away even as my fingers twitch. I know without looking that there is a bulge growing again in his pants, and I want to wrap my hands—and mouth—around it.

“Tit-” his eyes flicked to my once again bare breasts, “for tat.” I feel and hear his pants hit the floor, releasing his cock which juts out and tickles my lower belly.

“Insufferable,” I mutter as I admit defeat, sinking to my knees.

“Insatiable,” he sighs at the first swipe of my tongue.

I push my hands deep into my pockets as I make the walk from Hermione’s apartment back to my house. Luckily, neither of her roommates had been in the common areas as I made my retreat, allowing me to avoid that awkward interaction. Both of her roommates, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, know all about our uh…situation, but are cool about it and about keeping it all to themselves. Thankfully, neither of them really knows Lavender like that so they don’t much care.

They do, however, get a kick out of making comments afterward…Hermione isn’t the quietest when we shag.

Though, I guess that’s also my…fault. Heh.

They also make comments that imply that we should be more.

I mean, yeah, Hermione and I have been best friends since we were eight—since the day I saved her know-it-all ass from the troll named Vincent Crabbe. We’ve been joined at the hip ever since.

And yeah, we lost our virginity to one another at sixteen and have been almost literally joined at the hips ever since…

And sure, despite having girlfriends over the years she still remains the only girl I’ve ever shagged…

But what they, and so many others, don’t realize is that all we’ll ever be are best friends.

And maybe that’s why the sex is so good—we know each other better than anyone. Not even our best friend Harry, who held down Crabbe’s partner Greg Goyle on that faithful day, knows Hermione like I do.

I grimace at the thought.

The problem is, my brilliant Hermione could have anyone she wants. She’s beautiful, smarter than anyone I know, compassionate, and I mean she is a catch. She would never settle for me. No, she deserves someone like…

Ernie Mac-Fucking-millan.

Mr. Pompous Pre-law himself. With his daddy’s money and his fancy little sports car.

And you know what’s even worse? He’s not pompous at all. He’s not even a bit of a git. He’s actually a pretty cool bloke and we’d maybe be friends in another lifetime.

If he didn’t call my girl his.

Just the thought of him kissing Hermione, touching her, sticking his little Pre-law prick-

Mine.

I practically slam open the door to my house as I try to rid my brain of the image of Hermione writhing in pleasure under Ernie Fucking Macmillan. Wanker.

“Ronniekins!”

“Oh, Captain, my Captain!”

I roll my eyes as I make my way to the living room. As usual, half of Bridgeton University’s football team is camped out amongst half-empty bags of crisps and empty bottles of beer.

“What’s the move tonight, Captain?” Our center-back Seamus Finnegan calls out from the recliner he’s lounging on. Midfielders Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom are battling it out in Madden from the couch, but I know they are tuned into the conversation. My best friend, Harry Potter, sweeper extraordinaire, is half asleep on the other recliner, while more of the team—Colin Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Terry Boot, and Anthony Goldstein are littered around the room. They live in the dorms but spend a lot of time here.

I shrug. “I dunno what the move is for all of you, but I have plans with my girl so…” I duck out of there before the questions can start and make a pit stop in the kitchen for an apple before turning to head to my room.

Seamus blocks the stairs, a wicked grin on his face.

Damn…so close.

“Now, when you say ‘your girl’, are you referring to Ms. Granger? Or your fake girlfriend?”

I groan and try to bypass Seamus.

“Well, since Hannah says Ron spent the entire day at Hermione’s,” comes a voice just behind me, “I’m guessing he’s off to spend an obligatory couple of hours with Lavender.”

I turn and glower at Neville, who turns red under my glare.

“Bite me, all of you.”

“Well, whichever it is,” Seamus calls up after me, “rager at the Tau Beta house tonight if you want to swing by with one—or both—of your girls!”

I wave Seamus off and head into my bedroom, shutting the door and flopping on my bed.

My housemates, Seamus, Dean, Neville, and of course, Harry also know the truth. I just didn’t realize that Neville and Hannah were now comparing notes.

That would definitely get annoying.

But there’s no hiding my activities as Hermione spends just as much time here, much to Lavender’s chagrin, as I spend at Hermione’s.

I am really considering getting my own apartment next term. Then no one can be in my business.

And I could shag Hermione on any and every surface of my place.

I fling an arm over my eyes and am just calculating whether or not I could squeeze a nap in after a dirty daydream about Hermione sprawled across my hypothetical kitchen table when my phone rings.

Lavy-Baby.

Please note: I did not save her on my phone like that. Nor did I add the picture of her blowing me a kiss with her cleavage on full display, nor did I make her ringtone Love by some American singer Keyshia-something.

Could be worse…she could have chosen Ed Sheeran—Hermione’s other favorite ginger. She would have had a titty-attack.

I reluctantly push all thoughts of Hermione’s tits out of my mind and answer. If I don’t she’ll just call again.

“Yeah?”

“Won-won! Are you almost here? I’ve miss you so much!”

I cringe and suppress a groan. Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard when she is like this.

“I’ll be there soon, Lav.”

“Well, what’s taking you so long?!”

“Just stopped home to shower and change,” I say, then grimace. “I was at the gym,” I tack on.

“Oh…okay.” She laughs. “For a second I thought maybe you had spent like all day with Hermione.” She drags out the ‘all day’ as if it isn’t only four in the afternoon, and practically spits Hermione’s name.

I sigh. “Well, she is my best friend, Lav.”

Lavender tsk’s. “Best friend or not, you’re supposed to be spending your free days with me!”

That’s likely.

“I’ll be there soon.”

I hang up the phone mid-squeal and groan. I know I should end things with her—I only asked her out to draw some jealousy out of Hermione after all—but now she really likes me and I feel bad. I tolerate her to keep her happy…

If Hermione says the word, however, I’ll drop Lavender like a bad habit. If I knew that would make Hermione happy.

But she won’t. Soon after I’d taken up with Lavender, Hermione responded with a boyfriend of her own—Ernie.

Because she doesn’t care about me in that way. I’m just Ron Weasley, her best friend. Her horny git of a best friend.

And Lavender Brown’s boyfriend.

I made my bed, so I may as well lie in it.

Chapter Text

I close my eyes and try to enjoy the lips that are peppering my neck with kisses. But they are thin, cold, and sticky from too much lip gloss.

Hermione’s lips are full and soft, and always warm. So warm. They feel amazing no matter where they touch me.

And the scent that surrounds me—it’s way too…‘perfum-y’. I really can’t think of another way to explain it. Too floral isn’t even fair. My sister often wears a flowery perfume or lotion, and it’s nice…and tolerable.

But this? I almost want to gag.

Hermione rarely wears perfume…when she does it’s the one I got her for Christmas in high school. I know she wears it sparingly to make it last, as neither of us has been able to find it ever again. I had bought it at a street fair in London, and tried as I might, I never saw that vendor again. He was like some kind of magical little wizard who vanished into thin air.

And he was a magical wizard if he made that perfume like he’d claimed he had. It compliments Hermione’s natural sweet, musky scent perfectly. It never takes away from her, and it never adds too much.

It’s perfect.

Hermione’s perfect.

What I wouldn’t give to bury my face in her soft, curly hair right now.

As if on cue, pin-straight blonde hair comes down around my nose almost making me sneeze. Under the perfume, I can smell the burnt aftermath of Lavender’s straightening iron just before Lavender turns her head and attacks my lips with hers.

I indulge her for as long as I can before gently guiding her off my lap to sit beside me.

“I thought you wanted to watch a movie,” I chuckle with a nod towards the screen. “I want to see this one.”

Lavender pouts. “I just thought we could watch and…you know.” She traces a long, hot pink fingernail down my arm. “I want to feel close to you. It’s been such a long day…I need you.”

I quirk an eyebrow at her and try to figure out if she means more by that statement. I hope to the good Lord above that she does not.

I’ve spent the last almost three months expertly dodging her attempts to go further than a snog, but it hasn’t been easy. The girl is relentless. Every time she invites me over I’m half afraid she’ll answer the door in nothing but a silk robe or one of those negligee thingies and just maul me.

Even just moments ago, as she was kissing my neck and face, she’d been grinding on my lap—which didn’t do it for me. I think my pecker was trying to rise to the occasion, considering it could feel a willing playmate rubbing over him, but it was as if the rest of my body just knew that it wasn’t Hermione.

Blimey, I’m always hard just at the sight of Hermione. Even now, just the thought of her has my half-limp cock perking up just a bit more as if to say ‘Is she here?’

She’s not you bloody little wanker. Now go back to sleep before this one sees you and thinks you’re awake for her!

I sigh then put my arm out obligingly. “Tuck yourself in here,” I say. “Let’s watch the movie, yeah?”

Lavender seems momentarily appeased at the thought of snuggling up to me so I breathe another sigh, this time of relief. Another bullet dodged.

For now.

Any other bloke would think I was barking. I mean here I am, with a best friend I can shag every day to within an inch of her life, and a girlfriend who is more than willing to let me shag her too.

Ronald Weasley, living the dream.

But I don’t want anyone but Hermione Jean Granger…which is super annoying considering that she doesn’t want me in quite the same way.

Sure, I leave her blissfully satisfied after every shag, thank you very much, but that’s all physical.

And, I’ll be honest, it took a bit to get here, didn’t it? Our first few times were awkward, sloppy, and…quick.

Really, really quick.

But then we grew together. We learned each other’s bodies, we asked for what we wanted and needed, and we listened to one another…and now?

Holy sex goddess that woman is an amazing lover. And somehow she seems to think the same of me!

(I swear she actually called me a god once. Okay, so she may have been calling out to God, I can’t be a hundred percent sure as I was just seconds away from orgasmic bliss myself, but it sounded an awful lot like she screamed “Ronald Weasley you are a GOD!” when she came. Heh. Me…a god. Who woulda thunk it?)

And it’s not just the fact that I’m convinced sex with any other bird just will not compare, either. The truth is…I love her. Like really, truly love her.

I am madly in love with Hermione Granger.

I could spend every minute of every day with her and be the happiest I’d ever been. Whether we’re shagging each other’s brains out, sleeping in each other's arms, vegging out and watching movies together, arguing over one of life’s greatest philosophical mysteries, sharing our deepest secrets, or even sitting next to each other in class…I’m just happier when she’s by my side.

And while I’ll date these other broads in my feeble attempt to make her jealous…I don’t want to hurt her. Something tells me that if I shag another girl, she’ll be more than just jealous. She’ll see it as a betrayal. I couldn’t do that to her…she’s my best friend.

Always.

Yeah, I could say it’s hypocritical, considering the rage I feel whenever I think about any of her boyfriends shagging her, but I don’t care. She’s going to do what she wants. I’m not her man, nor will I ever be at this rate. As long as she’s being safe about it, which if I know my best friend she is.

We stopped using condoms ages ago. Because we trust each other. And shagging her raw is the best feeling ever.

As for me, I’m going to do—or not do—what and who I want…or don’t want. And I do not want to do Lavender.

But as the movie comes to an end, it’s fairly obvious what Lavender wants to do.

“I think I’m going to call it a night, Lav,” I say softly as I once again pry her lips off my neck.

“What?! But it’s still early!”

“We have to be in the weight room tomorrow morning.” Not a lie.

“On a Sunday?”

“That’s nothing new, Lav.”

“Like…early?”

“Super early.” Alright, that’s a lie. We’re not expected until eleven.

Lavender pouts. “I was hoping you could spend the night. We could…” She lets the implication hang in the air

I sigh. “Not tonight, Lav. I’m not ready to…I mean I don’t want to rush…things. You understand?”

That’s right, play the wholesome quasi-virginal good boy from the suburbs.

“Fine,” she huffs, and I'm reminded of a petulant child. Like my niece Victoire when she doesn't get her way.

Vicky is three years old, though. Lavender…is not.

“Do you want to do something tomorrow evening? Oh! Daddy's coming to bring me dinner as an early birthday gift! You should be here to meet him!” She sighs with stars in her eyes. “My two favorite men together. Oh, he'll just love you!”

Yeah, somehow I doubt that.

I’m pretty sure he’ll see right through me.

“I'll let you know, but wouldn't you rather have time with your dad? You haven't seen him in a couple a months.” I'm already thinking up what excuse I can come up with not to meet her father. I mean, come on…meeting the parents? That's just not something I do.

Except for the Grangers. They love me. I can't help but wonder if they'd love Ernie Mac more though.

After I promise to let Lavender know about dinner the following day, swear that I'll be at her birthday party Wednesday night, make extremely loose lunch plans for during the week, and then grit my teeth through a short snogging session, I'm finally out of the door and back in my little blue sedan making my way back to the other side of campus, where our house sits right on the outskirts.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I pull into our driveway. Harry's car is beside mine, but Dean’s truck is gone. The house is dark so I'm assuming they all piled into Dean's truck to go party so there's one designated driver.

I consider going to join them…finding them will be easy enough: Seamus documents his entire life on his Instagram stories. He’s probably live right now.

But am I really in the mood to drink and be around all those people?

Plus, if they're on Greek Row and it gets back to Lavender…

No, better not.

But going into the empty house alone doesn't seem appealing either.

I want Hermione.

I put on my most demure smile as Ernie tells me all about his day shadowing his father at his law firm. He's so excited to get into his Pre-law classes and all that preparing for Law School entails…it's cute. And I have no doubt he'll be an outstanding lawyer. He's fair and just, but also firm and super smart.

He'll also make some woman super happy one day.

After Ron had left earlier that afternoon, Ernie had called and asked if I wanted to have dinner at the Italian restaurant outside of town, and I couldn't say no.

What else was I going to do? Sit in my room and wonder if Ron was giving Lavender Brown the same treatment he'd been giving me all day long?

He'd better be wearing a condom.

“Dad says that the renovations on our home in Brighton will be finished by the summer,” Ernie smiles at me almost mischievously. “I can't wait to take you out there. You'll love the house and I can show you around town.”

I don't have the heart to tell him that I’ve practically lived in Brighton over the summer growing up.

And that a lot of my summer-in-Brighton memories include Ron.

I typically split up the summer between Brighton with my parents, the Weasley’s summer home in Portsea Island, and the Potter’s in Felixstowe. The three of us would literally move into each other's homes for a couple of weeks and then move on to the next.

The last couple of summers, Ron's sister Ginny even joined us. It was nice to have another girl around.

It was also nice to have Gin there to occupy Harry so that Ron and I could-

“Did you want to come back to mine?” Ernie’s question pulls me out of my daydreams of summer and…Ron. “It's still early?”

I smile at Ernie across the dimly lit table as his hand strokes the top of mine, trying to come up with a good reason to say no. A good reason other than “No, I should get home in case my best friend is finished entertaining his girlfriend and wants to shag me instead.”

Good God, I'm being so unfair to Ernie.

I should end this but I can't bring myself to. He’s truly such a sweetheart.

“I would,” I start, “but I really am tired. I spent most of today working with my project partner for our TRE class’ final project. It was draining.”

Not a total lie…Ron is my partner for our project in our Trade, Religion, and the Environment class, one of the many classes that overlap my History and his Philosophy and Religious Studies majors. And during a break in our extra-curricular activities that day, we did discuss said project…naked. While he fingered me.

We've also had Latin together for the last three years. Let’s just say there have been many sexy study nights. We do love to quiz each other—by sending each other dirty texts in Latin, mostly found in poems. You wouldn’t believe how raunchy some of these poems are!

His most recent?

BGP: "Sed domī maneās parēsque nōbīs novem continuās futūtiōnēs"

And so, once I successfully translated his message, I indeed stayed at home and was treated to nine back-to-back fuckings.

Ernie nods in understanding. “I know what you mean. It's like the closer we get to graduation, the more these professors want to pull every bit of energy from us!”

I give Ernie a small laugh. “I knew Junior year would be rough, but I can't help but worry about senior year.”

When the chuckles die down, Ernie taps the table. “I'd better get you home then, yeah? Let you get some rest.”

“Yeah,” I smile. “Thank you for dinner. It was lovely.”

Ernie takes my hand and kisses it softly. His eyes gaze at me with such reverence. “Always a pleasure, darling.”

Oh, Ernie. I almost wish I could…

On the drive back to my apartment, Ernie tells me a funny story about his nephew and I use the moment to really take him in. If I removed Ron from the picture, I could be with Ernie. He's smart, sweet, charming, and has a good sense of humor. He's not a slimeball whatsoever. Very respectful. And he's handsome too. In a different timeline, I could maybe fall for him. We would have the perfect college romance, Ernie would propose at our joint graduation party, and we would have a big wedding in Brighton followed by a three-week honeymoon in Paris gifted to us by his parents.

It could all be…perfect.

But I can't fall for Ernie. I can't fall for anyone. Because Ronald Weasley has my heart.

And he doesn’t even know it.

“Should I walk you up?” I look around and realize Ernie’s pulled up in front of my building.

“Oh, uh no, that's fine.” Then I'd have to come up with another excuse as to why I'm not inviting my boyfriend into my apartment for a nightcap. “I'll be alright.”

Ernie looks disappointed for just a second, then smiles softly. “Okay. Get some rest, Hermione.” He leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth. As he retreats, I notice the glance he gives my lips as if that wasn't enough.

But it will have to be …because I can't…

The minute I get to my room, I kick my pumps to the corner, strip out of the little black dress I threw on, rid myself of my bra, and wrap myself in my favorite silk robe.

I lay back on my bed and I'm immediately surrounded by the smell of Ron.

Of us.

I want him here more than ever.

Just as I'm going back and forth with myself about sending Ron a text, my phone pings. I grab it instantly and smile

BGP: wyd?

Me: Mr. Weasley, you did not just ‘wyd?’ me.

BGP: I did…so answer my question.

Me: that's so cliche

BGP: how so?

Me: well, it's the start of a booty call really

BGP: only if I send it in the middle of the night

BGP: plus, I didn't call you…I texted you

Me: a booty text then

BGP: fine! I'm booty-texting you, whatever tf that means. can I come over or not?

Me: let me know when you're outside

His text comes through not even two minutes later.

BGP: I'm outside

I run out of my room, swing open my front door, and drink him in. “Did you run here?”

“Nah,” he blushes. “I was already on my way here when I texted you.” He leans against the door frame and his eyes darken as they pass slowly over my body. The short, black silk robe barely covers my thighs, and the swells of my breasts are peeking through the opening. I feel my nipples tighten and know he can see them through the light fabric. “How's Ernie?”

I roll my eyes. Okay, so maybe I posted a picture of Ernie and me when we got to the restaurant, knowing that he gets notified anytime I post.

“Fine. Home. How's Lavender?”

“Fine. Home.”

We stare at one another for a full thirty seconds before a slow, almost sinister grin starts to spread across his face. I squeal as he lunges for me, closing the door with his foot and throwing me over his shoulder.

“You're such a Big Ginger Prat!” I yell my favorite nickname for him as he carries me into my bedroom, slamming my door behind him and tossing me onto the bed.

“You're going to change my name in your phone, Hermione,” he says as he kicks off his shoes and begins to undress with record speed.

“Oh yeah? To what, may I ask?”

"RWSG," he says.

"What?"

Now down to his tented boxers, Ron grabs my ankles and pulls me to the edge of the bed.

“Ron Weasley: Sex God.”

Chapter Text

We sit in our corner of the lecture hall together, listening to Professor Flitwick discuss the origins of a Latin prayer that I had already read about and dissected in the library the week before. I love Latin, and not just because of the tall, lanky ginger I get to sit beside each Wednesday morning for a double period.

The language is just so expressive and almost musical, plus I find linguistics absolutely fascinating. Latin is my fourth language now—I learned French in grade school and took Portuguese in higher grades. Ron opted for Spanish with Harry.

I’ve toyed with the idea of adding a minor in linguistic studies to my major. I would have the language requirement already, and could easily fit the last three necessary courses into my senior year if I took summer classes.

I kind of want to see what Ron’s summer plans are first though…before I make that choice.

“… ‘Mea Culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!’” Professor Flitwick cries. In Latin, he asks ‘to be reminded’ of what that means to test the class.

Or be sure that at least some of us are paying attention.

“Through my fault,” Ron calls out. “Through my fault, through my greatest fault.”

“Optimē, mī cāre puer!” Professor Flitwick calls up to Ron—Excellent, my dear boy. He continues in English, “So much more poignant than ‘I am sorry’, don’t you think?”

Ron lets out a small chuckle as the little professor quite literally flits about the front of the lecture hall, thus living up to his name. Professor Flitwick is the only Latin professor on our campus and teaches Intro to Latin as well as Latin II, III and IV, and Advanced Latin. So this is the third year we’ve had him, and we’ll have him again in our senior year.

He loves us, knows we’re amazing students, and doesn’t even mind when I do stuff like rest my head on Ron’s shoulder as we take our notes.

Like I am now.

Ron’s stomach rumbles during a lull in our professor’s banter, just loud enough for me to hear. I giggle.

“Ēsuriō,” Ron mumbles. I’m starving—one of the first phrases Ron loves to learn in any language. “At least I’ll know where to get food in any country I end up in,” he once said to me. I told him to make sure he also knows how to ask for the loo.

“Class is almost over,” I whisper. “We’ll go straight to fill your belly.”

Ron leans in and asks softly, “Then should we go to yours or mine?”

“For what?” I ask, feigning innocence.

“To fill you up, of course.”

I push him away with a quiet laugh. “Pay attention.”

Ron glances around the lecture hall. “No one’s paying attention,” he says. “Nothing to worry about. Doubt anyone here knows Lavender…or Ernie.”

I stiffen at the sound of Ernie’s name, wondering if I should tell him or keep it to myself. As it was I was secretly loving the icy tone he used when he said Ernie.

He was always so cool about Ernie, but I still pick up on strained feelings. I’m certain that’s because his only feelings regarding my having a boyfriend stem from the thought of someone else touching me. Even though he doesn’t feel for me what I feel for him, he’s still possessive—of both me as his best friend and of my body.

He’s a caveman. Without a doubt.

I take a breath and make my decision.

“I uh…ended things with Ernie.”

Ron’s face snaps to mine but I can’t read his expression. “What? When?”

“Last night. I met him at the campus Coffee Bar while you were in class.”

“He was the ‘errand’ you had to run?” I nod. “Hope you let him down easy.”

I roll my eyes. “He’s not some simpering fool. And we’d only dated a couple of months.”

Ron mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like “ten weeks but who’s counting?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, turning back to me. “Are…are you alright? I mean, about the break-up.”

I smile. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He nods. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

I feel my cheeks warm. “Didn’t have much time before you walked into my bedroom and shoved your cock down my throat, dear,” I reply sweetly.

Ron grunts and when I look at him, his eyes are on my lips. I could almost see the scene from last night playing out in his head from his point of view: me naked on the bed lying on my stomach while he took hold of my hair and fucked my mouth.

It was so hot.

I lick my lips and raise an eyebrow when he groans. I’m vaguely aware that class is over and everyone around us is packing up to leave.

“Food first,” I whisper.

Ron grants me a devilish grin and responds “Yes, dear” as if he isn’t the one dying from hunger.

About ten minutes later we’re walking into the campus Bistro when we hear our names being called. I smile and rush over to my other best friend.

“Harry!” My arms wrap around his neck. “I feel like I never see you!”

“Well, could it be because someone is keeping you hostage?” Harry grins at Ron who rolls his eyes with a muttered “Tosser”.

“I was at the house Monday and didn’t see you,” I tell Harry as we sit at our usual table in the corner. “Ron may be keeping me hostage but you seem to disappear yourself.” I prop my chin on my hand and give him a sweet smile. “Where have you been?”

Harry laughs. “I’ve been to London to visit the queen!” Ron and I laugh. Ron’s Auntie Muriel used to recite this little nursery rhyme when we were younger…as if we were toddlers and not ten-year-olds.

“Well, how is my sister?” Ron asks. “The queen in question.”

When Harry and Ginny announced their relationship during Christmas Hols, Ron wasn’t sure how he felt about it. But then I had pointed out to him that he would hate any man who dated Ginny. This was Harry. He reluctantly agreed that Harry was likely the best choice.

“She’s good. She may come here one of these weekends. And uh…” Harry glances at Ron nervously.

“What?” Ron asks.

“She’s planning on taking summer classes…but online. So we talked about…I mean since you and I talked about staying here through the summer, Ron…she might-”

I glance at Ron. “You’re staying?”

“We talked about the possibility of staying,” Ron says pointedly to Harry, before turning to me. “I was going to ask what your plans were. I-” His eyes flick to Harry, “we didn’t want to leave you hanging.”

I nod in thought. “I was thinking of adding a minor and taking summer classes. Wasn’t sure if you wanted to stay.”

Harry slaps the table. “That’s settled then. We’ll stay, Gin will join us-”

“And where will Ginny be staying, Potter?” Ron leans back and crosses his arms across his chest. He’s so hot when he’s trying to be the intimidating older brother.

“Ginny is an adult and can make that choice herself, Weasley.”

I laugh because these two are absolutely ridiculous. My laughter, however, dies out when a pair of slender arms come around Ron’s neck.

“Someone hasn’t come to wish me a happy birthday,” Lavender purrs in Ron’s ear.

Literally. Purrs. Like a stray alley cat in heat.

I look at Harry and do my best to keep the annoyed, and possibly jealous, look off my face.

Ron smiles and looks up at Lavender. “Happy birthday, Lav.” She plants a sloppy, wet kiss on his lips—obviously for my benefit—and it’s all I can do to keep from yanking her off of him by her hair. It’s in a sleek ponytail today and I could easily-

“Hi, Harry!” She looks at me. “Hermione.”

I put on my sweetest smile. “Happy Birthday, Lavender.” Harry echoes my sentiments and I feel his hand grasp my bouncing knee under the table. I take a breath and give Harry a small smile, thankful for his support.

God, I don’t know what I would have done if I had been sitting here alone with Ron. Would she have come up to us? Word is she hates me.

The feeling’s mutual, I assure you.

“Thank you,” she says. Her voice and smile are sugary sweet but strained. She turns back to her boyfriend. “Come on, Won-Won! I’m done with my classes early today. You can take me out for an early dinner!”

Ron glances at me trying to fight what I know is about to be an apologetic grimace.

“That Italian restaurant on Oak is amazing. You should take her there!”

I smile, but now his face is one of shocked rage.

“Have you…been?” Lavender asks.

I nod. “I went over the weekend. With my boyfriend. The food was delicious.”

Lavender assesses me for a moment, her eyes slightly narrowed. She and Ernie don’t run in the same crowds that I know of, so she wouldn’t know yet that I no longer have a boyfriend.

Plus, I’m helping Ron here, after all. If she thinks I was with my boyfriend all weekend, she won’t suspect the truth—that her boyfriend spent the majority of the weekend giving me orgasms. My smile deepens at the memories of said orgasms.

She may have him for now, but he’ll always be my best friend.

Ron looks at me and then at Harry as if asking for help. Realizing that no help is coming, he sighs and stands.

“Come on, Lav. We’ll stop at my house so I can change.” He shoots me a look and I glare back now that Lavender’s turned to leave. He smirks and then turns to follow.

I watch them leave the Bistro hand-in-hand and cannot believe that there is actually a sting behind my eyes. It’s been so long since I’ve cried over Ronald Weasley. But I know he said that on purpose.

“We’ll stop at my house so I can change.”

I try to push away the thoughts of Lavender sitting on Ron’s bed watching him strip. Standing up to come beside him and running her fingers across his broad chest. My chest.

My Ron.

I hope she can smell me in his bed. I hope she lies back and feels the dampness of our cum from this morning’s quickie before class.

“He’ll have her wait in the living room,” Harry said. “Or, if none of the guys are there, in the car.”

I snap out of my trance and bend to pull my Latin book out of my bag. “And why would he do that?” I hope my tone is light and airy. “She’s his girlfriend after all. Surely she’s been inside his bedroom.”

Harry is silent so I look at him. He’s looking at me, waiting for my full attention I suppose.

“Ron’s never let her into his room.”

I can’t get inside my house fast enough. The last two hours with Lavender have my ears ringing. I thought about breaking up with her ten times during dinner—I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending that I like her. I can’t keep spending time with her that I could be spending with Hermione.

But it’s Lavender’s birthday. What kind of prat would I be if I broke up with her on her sodding birthday?

A Big Ginger Prat.

For a moment I smile at the thought of Hermione’s name for me in her phone, but then I remember that the last two hours in a dimly lit, romantic Italian restaurant with Lavender was all Hermione’s fault.

What the hell was she playing at?

I swing open my bedroom door prepared to drop on my bed and ignore the world for the next three hours until I have to be at Lavender’s house for her birthday party…but there’s a body sitting cross-legged on said bed.

“You’re here.”

Hermione looks at me confused. “Of course, I’m here. We were supposed to hang out after class, remember? Before you had to run off with your girlfriend.”

What the fuck’s she got to be angry with me about?

“I had to run off with said girlfriend because you gave her the bright idea to have me take her to some romantic restaurant! And it was expensive as hell, by the way. Thanks for that!”

I pull my polo over my head and toss it into the corner. It didn’t help that I felt severely under-dressed for that place.

Hermione shrugs. “She’s your girlfriend. Why wouldn’t you take her somewhere nice for her birthday?”

I turn to her with my belt in my hand, recalling a scene from the show Outlander she made me watch and wondering how much of a fight Hermione would put up if I tried to get her over my knee.

My prick jumps at the thought—whether at the thought of spanking her or at the fight that would no doubt ensue. Maybe I’m a ‘fucking sadist’ like the guy in the show.

Maybe it’s a ginger thing.

“Oh, I don’t know, Hermione, maybe because I had no plans to take her out, I had plans to eat you out!” My voice rises with each word and I pray none of my roommates are home—least of all Harry. He didn’t need to hear that and will let me know later…if he has.

Hermione shrugs again and I seriously consider grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “She’s your girlfriend…not me. Eat her pussy.”

I’ve just kicked my trousers into the corner with my shirt and belt, and I stop and stare at her in disbelief. She’s not serious.

“Why would I do that?”

She scoffs. “She’s your girlfriend and it’s her birthday. Surely she’s getting a birthday shag.”

Are her eyes getting glassy?

“Are you saying you want to stop what we’re doing?” I ask slowly.

Another fucking shrug.

“What are you sodding Shruggy McShrugerson today?! I don’t understand what the fuck you want from me, Hermione!”

Hermione looks away and I can see it now…she’s definitely fighting back tears. I’ve known this girl for well over a decade now—intimately. I know all of her tells.

“Why did you break up with Ernie?”

She turns back to me and raises an eyebrow. “I told you…”

“No, you didn’t tell me why.”

Hermione opens her mouth, then closes it. Her eyes flick away from me again as if there’s something she doesn’t want to tell me.

I’m sitting on the bed in a split second, cupping her face and turning her to me. “Did he hurt you?”

“What?”

“Did he do something to you?” My blood is boiling and I swear to everything holy I will murder the sonofabitch if he touched a hair on her body.

“What-no, Ron!” She pushes my hand away and stands. “I should go. I shouldn’t have come. It’s Lavender’s birthday—you should be with her.”

“If I wanted to be with her that’s where I would be right now,” I say through gritted teeth. I didn’t mean to but she’s infuriating me to the point that my thoughts are coming out of my mouth faster than I can filter them. “But I’m not…I’m here with you.”

Hermione’s standing in front of the door now. She turns back to face me, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt.

“You…you don’t want to be with her?”

I watch her trying to figure out what she’s really asking me. Then I stand and approach her, making my decision.

“Tell me you want me to break up with her, and I’ll do it.”

Chapter Text

“Tell me you want me to break up with Lavender, Hermione.”

I step toward her as she opens and closes her mouth, but no words come out. I watch her as her eyes run across my face and to my lips, then down to my bare chest. Her eyes keep going until her gaze lands on the bulge in my thin pants which chooses that moment to twitch. I grunt and she snaps her eyes back up to mine.

I lean into her trapping her against my door. “Say it,” I demand.

I can’t even tell you what’s come over me…testing out a theory, I guess.

She schools her expression and raises an eyebrow, coming back to herself—my feisty girl. “Ronald,” she starts in her haughtiest tone, but I silence her with a soft brush of my lips on hers. I need to hear her say it. If she says it, if she drops her stubborn act and admits that she’s jealous of Lavender and that she wants me to herself, then I’ll know for sure.

Could it be that my feelings aren’t one-sided?

At least, if she doesn’t admit it…if I’m wrong…I can play this off as a game. Foreplay. We’ll laugh it off tomorrow and go back to how things are.

There was only one way to find out—get her to admit it. And the best way to lower her defenses and get her to admit anything was to tease her in the most torturous way I knew.

I brush my lips across her neck and cheek as my hand finds its way under the skirt she’s wearing. I grin against her skin. “Wet already, Hermione?” I rub my fingers over her knickers and make contact with her clit. She gulps and I kiss the hollow of her throat. I press against her clit a bit harder and as expected she lets out a low moan.

When I look at her, her eyes are closed.

She’s so fucking beautiful. Please…just tell me, love.

I slide my fingers into her knickers and stroke her swollen clit making her whimper and throw her head back against the door.

“Just say the word, Hermione,” I whisper into her ear as I rub her in agonizingly slow circles. “Say the word and she’s gone. And you’re all mine. And I’m all yours.” I flick her clit and she gasps. Her breathing is erratic and yet she’s trying so hard to hold it together—stubborn arse. But I know the truth: another few seconds and she’ll crumble in my arms.

But I need her to say it first.

“Tell me.”

Hermione shakes her head, so I move my finger so it’s no longer in contact with where she needs me most. “No,” she whimpers and shifts her body to try to get my finger back where she wants it.

“Not until you say it.”

I’m pushing her, I know, and I could very well be wrong. But if I was wrong, wouldn’t she have said so by now?

Her refusal speaks volumes. Her refusal fuels me to keep trying—keep pushing.

I kiss below her ear, then suck hard on the sweet skin there. She moans and I feel her knees begin to give out. When I pass my tongue over the spot that’s sure to bruise, I think about passing my tongue through her wet folds. I want to so bad—that’ll be her reward for finally coming clean.

Instead, I run my fingers through her gathering her wetness, but purposely avoiding her clit. She notices.

“Ron, please,” she whimpers.

But she never begs, huh?

Focus, Weasley.

“Tell me what you want, Hermione,” I growl. My finger circles her clit once then I retract it again. “Tell me.”

“I want to come,” she moans.

“No,” I give her clit a pinch and she moans so loud that I swear my dick tries to jump out of my pants to get to her. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Tell me what you want. Tell me who you want.”

I pass over her clit again flicking it.

“You!” she breathes. “Ron, I want you.”

“Then say it.” I rub her clit continuously now, adding just the right amount of pressure. When she only moans, I rub harder making her cry out, then ease off again. “Say it, Hermione, and you can come. Tell me and you can come all the time by my hands, my tongue, my cock. Only you. What do you want me to do?”

A loud moan erupts from the back of her throat as the start of an orgasm begins to run through her body. I feel all the signs of its presence and I’m prepared to pull my fingers away again when she practically screams, “I want you, Ron! I want you all to myself! Please!”

Seconds later she’s shattering in my arms, her pussy pulsating against my fingers, my name falling from her perfect lips. Once her orgasm subsides, she slumps against me with a happy sigh.

I smile into her neck. “Tell me what to do,” I whisper.

“Leave her, Ron. Leave her and be with me.” She looks up at me, tears in her eyes.

“Happily.” I kiss her softly and suck her bottom lip into my mouth before releasing it. “I love you,” I admit.

Her eyes widen. “Do you mean that?”

“I’ve always meant it.”

I know she just confirmed that she wants me to leave Lavender, but my heart is still racing waiting to see if she actually loves me back.

“I’ve always meant it, too,” she sighs. “It’s always been you. Only you. I am so in love with you Ronald Weasley.”

I’m grinning so hard that I feel like my face might split into two. Hearing her say those words is better than I could have ever imagined. Shagging my best friend over the last few years has been amazing. But I would trade in every single orgasm just to hear that she loves me. She actually loves me.

He loves me…he really loves me. He’s going to leave Lavender and be with me.

I’m still against the door both due to that explosive orgasm and due to being utterly frozen at the realization that my best friend, my lover, the only man I’ve ever loved…loves me back. And he wants to be with me.

There’s so much that I want to unpack here—how long has he felt this way? Why hasn’t he ever told me? Has he told me and I just didn’t see it? How didn’t I ever see it? I pride myself on how well I know Ronald Weasley. I’m damn certain that no one knows him better than I do, not even Harry. How did I miss his true feelings for me?

I want to ask him everything…but he’s currently kissing my jaw and neck and I can feel his erection digging deliciously into my belly.

The questions can wait. I want my man.

I push him back onto the bed and smile at him as I remove my skirt and soaked knickers. His answering grin is lopsided and lazy, his eyes dark and full of lust.

And love. So much love. I can see it now. It’s always been there, hasn’t it?

Once my shirt and bra have joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor, I climb on top of Ron and capture his lips in a heated kiss. His arms are around me immediately holding me close.

“Fuck, I love you, ‘Mione,” he whispers against my lips, our breath mingling between us. I let out a breathy laugh because it’s been so long since he’s called me Mione.

And because he loves me.

He loves me.

“I love you, too.”

His kiss is slow and so sensual I could cry. It feels as if he’s pouring everything he’s been holding back into me and it’s all I can do to do the same. My fingers delve into his hair holding him to me, my body grinds against him, desperate to feel all of his love.

“I need to feel you,” I gasp. “I need you inside me.”

He flips me onto my back and licks up my neck to my ear sending chills throughout my body. “I need to taste you first.” Fuck. “Can I taste you ‘Mione? Can I make you cum on my tongue?”

All I can do is whimper. He can make me cum by his words!

He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he kisses his way down my body, pausing to lick and suck each nipple until I’m so needy I could burst. His fingers keep toying with my nipples as he goes lower. He dips his tongue into my belly button and I let out a soft laugh as I push up onto my elbows to watch his descent. His eyes twinkle, and then close as he dips his nose into my curls and inhales deeply.

“Fuck,” he moans. “I will never get tired of your scent, Hermione.” One hand leaves my breast and he strokes my slit softly. I shudder, still sensitive from the orgasm against the door. “You were made for me,” he whispers. “Your scent calls me home.”

“Ron,” I sigh, his words washing over me like a warm bath.

And then, the bloody bastard sends me a cocky wink and literally dives in.

“Oohh!” My arms immediately give out and my body falls back onto the mattress as his lips and tongue and teeth go to work on me. He licks and sucks and nibbles until my body is so tightly coiled that I know I don’t have much longer.

“Fuck, I’m addicted to your taste, Hermione,” he mumbles in between my moans. “You going to give me what I want?”

I nod and breathe out an “uh-huh” because my orgasm is so close I can feel it building.

And then I feel his long fingers enter me and curl, and I know what he’s really after.

Oh, shit.

I’m almost giddy in anticipation as he works me over the edge to my orgasm. But he doesn’t stop. He sucks my clit and fingers me deep hitting the perfect spot all the way through because a few months ago he learned that when he keeps sucking through my orgasm, and keeps hitting me in just the right spot…

“GAH!” I stay in the moment feeling everything as my entire body pulses and I quite literally explode all over Ron. He wastes no time cleaning up everything I have to offer.

“God, I love making you squirt.” I can hear the grin in his voice. I smile, my eyes still closed, my breath still heavy.

He comes up my body and kisses me. I can taste me on his lips and this surge of possessiveness runs through me.

“You’re mine,” I tell him fiercely. “Mine.”

Before he can respond I roll us over, away from the puddle I made so that I’m straddling him again, determined to have my way this time. He lost his pants I’m assuming while he was feasting on me, so it takes me no time at all to grasp his cock and slide down the full length of him. The groan he lets out is positively primal and I throw my head back with a sigh. He feels so good it should be a crime. Nothing should be this amazing.

Nothing and yet everything.

“Mine,” the word leaves my lips as I begin to ride him with total abandonment. His strong hands grip my hips and help guide me because truth be told my movements are already pretty erratic. I am lost in him. “All mine.”

One large hand splays across my back bringing me down slightly, and lips surround one of my nipples. Fuck, that’s good!

“So good,” Ron agrees. Guess I said that out loud?

He brings me down further, his lips suckling on my throat, leaving his mark. His way of saying ‘mine’ right back to me.

His arms hold me to him and he flips us, mindful of avoiding the wetness I left on the other side of the bed. Before I know what’s happening, my legs are thrown over his shoulders and he is driving in deep. My screams could wake the dead and I’m praying his roommates are still in class. No one was here when I showed up and let myself in the back door, which they never lock, so chances are we’re still blissfully alone.

The neighboring houses, on the other hand? Well, I don’t know his neighbors well enough to care if they can hear me.

“Ron!” I scream, another orgasm building inside me. “Fuck, right there! RON!”

“Come with me, love,” he grunts in my ear, his body folding mine in half, his hips keeping a relentless pace. “Come with me.”

“Yes! I’m coming!”

I jerk under him, my sex pulsating around him as I moan out his name.

Within seconds he’s bottomed out inside me and is coming with a guttaral groan.

He releases my legs so they drop on either side of him and collapses over me, holding his weight up by his elbows.

“I love you so bloody much,” he whispers.

“I love you,” I sigh.

A while later we’re cleaned up and have placed a blanket over the bed to lay on so we don’t feel the wetness. Ron’s on his back with his arm around me as I lay across his chest, and his opposite arm is behind his head, leaving the inside of his bicep on display.

My fingers trace the two stars tattooed there, circling their orbit around each other.

“How long?” I ask him, knowing he’ll understand my inquiry.

Ron sighs. “Honestly? Since we were eight, probably.”

I look up at him. “Eight?…”

“Not that I knew what it was then, or anything, but looking back…” He shrugs. “I’m pretty sure I loved you since then. That I’ve always loved you.”

“Me too.” I settle back onto his chest, my eyes on his tattoo. “We wasted so much time not realizing…but we knew deep down.” My finger strokes the inked skin again. “Two stars pulled to orbit one another.”

“Stēllae Bīnae.,” he whispers. Binary Stars. We never would have drifted far from each other. And we always find our way back to each other no matter what. We are in each other’s orbit.

“I’m going to her tonight,” he says softly. “I’m going to tell her it’s over. I know it’s her birthday but I can’t…” Ron sighs. “I have to.”

“I know,” I say softly. Despite my feelings for the annoying blonde, I feel sad for her. No one deserves to be dumped on their birthday. And it wasn’t her fault, after all…she just got caught in the middle of our orbit.

He shifts and I get on my side as he rolls onto his facing me. “I’ll go, tell her it’s over, then I’ll come back. You’ll be here?”

I nod. “Nowhere else I’d be.”

He smiles, his finger tracing my lip. “Then it’s just me and you from here on out. Me and you against the world, baby. We’ve spent too long dicking around.” I snort and he rolls his eyes with a grin. “No more, Mione.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you. And I want everyone to know.”

I nod and stare into his eyes, hoping that all he sees is the love…and not the fear.

But then I put a voice to the fear anyway.

“If you hurt me, it will end me,” I say softly.

His response is a whispered, “Same”.

Chapter Text

“There you are!”

I barely make it across the threshold before Lavender flies into my arms and goes for my lips. I move quickly and she lands a wet one on my cheek.

I can still taste Hermione on my tongue, there is no way I want to sully her taste with whatever flavor of lip gloss Lavender is wearing tonight.

I give Lavender a smile and hold her at arm's length, averting my eyes from the cleavage spilling out of her button-down sleeveless dress which is way too tight for her. “I told you I would come.”

As she pulls me into the house chattering away, I try to assess how drunk she is in between small waves at her friends. Her state of sobriety will totally affect how I go about this.

“Do you want a beer or something stronger? We can take a couple shots!”

I raise an eyebrow. “How many have you had already?”

“None, silly! I was waiting for you!”

Okay good…she hasn't had a drink yet. Although maybe just one will help…

“One shot,” I determine…it will help me too. “Then I really want to go somewhere and talk for a sec, okay?”

Lavender swoons…like actually swoons. She has no idea what's coming clearly.

“We can go up to my room,” she says with a wink.

The better part of me wants to say no since I have made it a point to avoid her bedroom at all costs, but taking a quick look around I don't see another option. There are already a good amount of people in the house she shares with three other girls and every room seems to be bursting with bodies. Since it's a warm night, I can see people out on the back porch, and the front isn't an option as we'll be stopped whenever someone arrives.

I sigh. “Yeah, let's do that.”

We take our shot and I do salute the birthday girl, because why wouldn't I, and then we head up to her room. I glance around on the way up to be sure no one is tracking our movements, but everyone seems to be lost in their own conversations, drinks, or dance partners.

Good…the last thing I need is someone putting out there that I went to Lav’s room for a birthday shag or some such nonsense.

At the very least, Hermione knows I'm here and why, so she'll understand that I needed to take Lavender somewhere quiet to break the news.

When we get into Lavender’s bedroom I glance around and fight back the eye roll. It’s as if someone upchucked pink and glitter everywhere. Her bed is made and half of it is covered by those little annoying pillows that no one ever uses—why do women do that? Her “desk” is actually a vanity I'm guessing, since it houses every makeup known to men—women—as well as bottles upon bottles of lotions and body sprays and perfumes.

She must have a membership to that Bath & Body Works store or something.

Her closet door is ajar and clothes are spilling out—although the room is fairly clean otherwise—and I see another door which I'm assuming leads to her own loo.

Hermione’s bedroom is girly, in a way, but it's cozy and comfortable. This…is not. This is stifling. And I feel like if I touch anything I’ll be covered in glitter.

Lavender bounces onto her bed and sits cross-legged, patting the space right beside her. I pretend not to see this invitation and turn her desk chair around to sit in it.

I don't miss the pout she gives me.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Fuck. How do I even do this?

Suddenly the thought of Hermione at my house—in my bed—waiting for me helps to remind me of my mission. I cannot let this go on any longer. As it is, this has gone on way too long.

It shouldn't have happened in the first place.

I clear my throat—best to just rip the band-aid off. “Look, Lav…I really hate to do this to you, and today of all days—”

“Then don’t,” she says somewhat coldly. I look up at her to find her glaring at me. “You are not honestly dumping me on my birthday are you?”

I sigh. “I’m sorry, I really am. It’s just…this isn’t working out for me and it’s not fair to you if we continue. I thought about waiting until tomorrow but lying to you for the rest of the night didn’t seem fair either.”

Lavender is silent for a long while and the longer she’s quiet, the larger I expect her explosion to be.

“This is about Hermione, isn’t it?” she finally asks. Her voice is low and measured.

“This is about you and me,” I say. “We’re not right for each other. I’m not happy. And I won’t keep stringing you along.”

“No,” she stands and begins to pace. “This is about Hermione! I knew that bitch was sinking her claws into you! That no-good meddling cu-”

“No!” I stand and glower at her. “I don’t care how you feel about Hermione and what part you think she plays in this, but you will not talk about her that way in front of me. She’s been my best friend since we were eight. So just…stop!”

We’re chest to chest now, or more like chest to face given the way I tower over her. Lavender takes a few deep breaths and then nods.

“Fine.” With that one word, she turns to her desk and picks up her phone like she’s bored.

“Fine?”

She places her phone back on her desk and leans on it heavily, her head bowed. “Fine.” Her voice is weaker now. Sadder. I feel bad about it all again, but also…relief. I drop back onto the chair and put my head in my hands.

“I really am sorry, Lav.”

I hear her shuffling around the room and then she’s in front of me, her hand resting on my shoulder. “If you really are sorry,” she says softly, “then will you do just one favor for me?”

I look up at her and nod.

“Just…stay for the party for a bit? Act like you’re still my boyfriend just for a while?” I make a face and she crouches in front of me. “Please, Ron? I’ll feel so humiliated having to tell everyone who asks where you’ve gone that I’ve been dumped on my birthday.” Tears start to form in her eyes and I have to bite back a groan. I hate it when birds cry. “Just stay for a bit and then we can, I don’t know, say you had to get some rest for an early practice tomorrow or you have a test tomorrow to get back to studying for. Please?”

“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “But no kissing or snogging or anything. I’ll stay for an hour. We can dance, but don’t get too touchy.” The last thing I needed was someone to post a video of Lavender rubbing up on me or of her kissing me for Hermione to see.

The fact that I would cheat on anyone with Hermione but refused to even ‘fake’ cheat on Hermione speaks volumes.

Lavender nods. “I can agree to that.” She stands and reaches for her phone, which reminds me…

“I’m going to pop into your loo before we head back down if that’s alright?” She nods and I stand, heading to the closed door.

Once I’m inside and the door is closed again behind me, I breathe a sigh of relief.

Alright…it’s done. And it didn’t go down as bad as I thought it would. Now I just have to tough it out for an hour and I can get back to my girl.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to shoot a quick text to said girl.

Me: It’s over. I promised her I would hang for a bit longer so she doesn’t have to be publicly dumped on her birthday…figured it’s the least I could do. One hour, tops, and then I’ll be back. Be naked and ready for-

“Ron?” Lavender knocks on the door and I jump, fumbling my phone. “You ready?” I hit send and lock it quickly as if I was caught and pocket it as I step out of the bathroom.

“Yeah…M’ready,” I mumble.

Lavender smiles sweetly and walks over to me. She reaches up and runs her fingers through my hair, a wistful smile on her face. I give her this moment, this last chance…a birthday gift of sorts. I know she really did develop feelings for me, and it makes me feel like such a sod. She didn’t do anything, after all. She just caught feelings for someone whose heart would never be available to her.

“I’m going to miss this hair,” she says. “It was always fun to play with it and muss it up.” She giggles and actually does muss it up playfully. I laugh and shake my head, pushing her hand away.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get back to your party, yeah?”

She smiles and nods. “Yeah.”

I open the door to her bedroom and step out onto the landing, and immediately loud cheers ring out from below. When I look down over the railing, the entire party is looking up at us and chanting something, huge grins on their faces, phones in almost all of their hands.

“BIRTHDAY SHAG! BIRTHDAY SHAG!”

I shake my head and look to Lavender, who’s now emerging from the room. She’s simultaneously trying to fix her suddenly mussed hair, and rebutton her dress that I am sure was properly buttoned just a moment ago.

She smiles and winks back at me, and is gliding down the stairs with a flip of her long blonde hair.

I take the stairs up to my room two at a time praying that Hermione’s asleep and hasn’t been on social media in the last fifteen minutes. I’m just mad it took me that long to run out of the party and make it back to my house. That was plenty of time for her to see the posts, but if she was sleeping—

My bedroom door swings open as I’m reaching for the knob and Hermione stands there…not sleeping and incensed.

Fuck.

Tears are streaming down her face, her clothes are clearly thrown on haphazardly, and her hair is wild and almost crackling with the amount of anger simply flowing out of her tiny body.

“Fuck you, Ronald Weasley,” she seethes and tries to push passed me. I’m not having it though.

“No!” I push her back into the room and slam the door shut. “Stop!” I say as she continues to try to get passed me. “Just, listen for a second!”

“Listen to what?!” She screams. “I’ve seen everything I needed to. You just couldn’t resist, huh? One last roll in the hay with Lav-Lav before you’re stuck with me? Is that what that was?”I reach for her but she throws her hands up and backs away, her beautiful brown eyes blazing. I can see the anger, but also the hurt.

“No, Hermione I—”

“And only an hour or so after you had me! And then you were going to, what? Come back here and stick your nasty prick right back into me as if nothing had happened?! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU RONALD! And I will never forgive you.”

Before I can say another word, she flies out of the room and slams my door shut behind her. I know I should follow her, but she won’t listen…not now.

I sink onto the floor and try to figure out how to make her believe that what she saw was not the truth at all.

Chapter Text

I grip the hot cup of coffee in my hands and listen to Hannah and Susan go back and forth in front of me, breaking down and analyzing the live video Ron was tagged in last night, sharing the same thoughts that keep rolling through my head.

Why would he do that after he told me he loves me?

He was supposed to go over there to break up with her.

Did he decide to give her one last shag? A pity fuck?

Why would he do that knowing I was waiting at home for him? Surely he would know I wouldn’t be okay with that.

Hannah grabs the phone from Susan. “Let me see it again.”

I wince and bring the coffee to my lips, taking a long sip. I’m normally a tea drinker, but after the sleepless night I had, I need all the caffeine I can get. I stayed up all night going through every next-step scenario I could think of. Everything from disappearing to Australia so I never have to see Ron Weasley’s stupid, gorgeous face ever again, to pulling up to Lavender Brown’s house and dragging her out to the curb by her hair, to calming myself down enough to listen to Ron explain himself out of this.

But how?

As Hannah plays the video from last night, I don’t have to look at the screen to see it unfold in my mind. I close my eyes, tears leaking from the corners again as the sight of Ron emerging from Lavender’s bedroom plays behind my eyelids—his hair looking like he’d just woken up…or been thoroughly fucked.

I know what his hair looks like after it’s been thoroughly fucked.

Behind him, Lavender trying to smooth her own hair and re-button her shirt, a sated, dazed smile on her face—the look of someone who’d just been ravaged by a sex god.

My sex god. My Fucking Sex God.

“I don’t know, Hermione,” Hannah sighs, handing the phone back to Susan. “It’s not making any sense.”

“It doesn’t matter how much sense it makes,” I mumble. “The video tells us all we need to know.”

“I mean, it’s not like it's a video of them actually shagging,” Susan offers.

I scoff. “Might as well have been.”

A knock at the door has all three of us turning in our stools at the kitchen bar top. Ron should be in class with Harry, but it’s highly possible he skipped to track me down. He knows how I feel about him skipping class—it’s not something we do. And he knows that I’m usually in the library on Thursday mornings…so why would he come here?

“If that’s a red-headed Weasley,” I hiss pointing at the door, “you tell him I’m not here and that you have no idea where I am. In fact, tell him I packed a bag and left!”

Hannah nods and schools her face into a scowl as she turns to open the door.

“Uh…well it is a red-headed Weasley,” Hannah calls out with a laugh, “but I don’t think it’s the one you were expecting.” She opens the door all the way and I squeal as my new favorite Weasley flies into the room, long red hair trailing behind her.

“Ginevra!” I throw my arms around her. “What are you doing here?!”

Ginny squeezes me tighter to her. “Two of my favorite people seem to need me.” She pulls back and smiles at me. “And the fact that my third favorite person is also here, well…that’s just an added bonus. But I’ll track Harry down later. Now, tell me what the hell is going on!”

I laugh and shake my head, my dark mood suddenly lifted just by Ginny’s presence. Ginny Weasley is the only girl I’d been close to growing up, and the only one who’s always known about my true feelings for her brother.

“So…you heard then?” I ask after Ginny’s greeted by Hannah and Susan. We all sink onto the sectional. “Everything?”

Ginny nods. “Imagine my shock and surprise when just moments after Harry texts me the exciting news that you two have finally gotten yourselves straightened out, Ron is tagged in that vile video.”

I nod, my dark mood returning. “And…what do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Ginny sighs. “Something just is not adding up, and I’m here to get to the bottom of it.”

I release a sardonic laugh. “Not sure what there is to get to the bottom of, Gin.”

“My goodness, this is so ridiculous! That brother of mine has been in love with you since we were kids, Hermione!”

“I know, he told me so but—wait…you knew how he felt?” I turn to Ginny astonished.

Ginny rolls her eyes. “The whole family and Harry could see how you two felt about each other.”

“Everyone here, too,” Susan and Hannah mumble together.

“Harry too?” I ask Ginny, ignoring the other two. “Why didn’t any of you ever say anything?”

“Hermione, honestly,” she gives me a bored look. “As stubborn as you two nincompoops are, what would you have said if I told you Ron is deeply in love with you?”

“I…um…” I sigh and sink back into the couch cushions. “I would have told you that you were absolutely insane and there was no way he’s in love with me.”

“Right,” she nods, her lips in a thin line. “And the same for that idiot.”

I nod in agreement. Because even when I told him I love him, that I’m in love with him, I could see the astonished look on his face. It was clear that he thought it was as impossible as I did.

“But,” Ginny continues, “the fact remains that you two have finally told each other how you feel. So for that boy to go off and shag another girl after he’s been told that he has you—truly has all of you—is not making any sense. Ron worships the ground you walk on.” I snort. “No, I’m serious! He always has. Hermione, if you say jump, he says how high.”

“He says run, and you say how fast,” Hannah shrugs.

“You say come and he says where,” Susan smiles.

Hannah snorts. “Let’s be real here… if Ron says come, Hermione says how loud.”

“Loud!” Susan laughs. “The answer is always loud!”

Hannah and Susan’s laughter dies when they look at Ginny.

“Shall I remind you all that we’re talking about my brother?” Ginny shudders. “None of that. Please.”

I laugh and lean into my friend. “I missed you, Gin,” I say softly. “You should just transfer here.”

“Ron would hate to live constantly in my shadow,” she sighs. “He may be an insufferable prat but I won’t do that to him.”

“Or,” Susan smiles, “you don’t want people to know you’re related.”

Ginny snaps her finger and points to Susan with a wink. “That. Now,” she sits up and claps. “Bistro?”

I roll my eyes as we stand, Susan and Hannah agreeing to head over to campus with us. Ginny swears that our campus Bistro has the best fish and chips she has ever tasted in her entire life and always demands to go there the moment she steps foot on our campus.

The walk to the middle of campus is short, and my three friends chatter animatedly to distract me from the heaviness I feel in my heart. For the most part, it works…

Until we come face to face with the blonde bimbo herself heading out of the Bistro as we’re heading in.

“Hermione,” Lavender says, stepping right in front of me. The absolute bollocks on this girl!

“Lavender.” I stare her down wondering what she could possibly have to say to me. I have a few choice words for her, myself, but before I can even gather them, Ginny steps in front of me.

“So, you’re Lavender!” Ginny says in an overly cheerful voice as she sticks her hand out to Lavender. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Lavender looks Ginny up and down in disgust, likely taking in Ginny’s concert tee, short shorts, and beat-up chucks that she refuses to part with even though she has the means to buy a new pair a week.

“And who exactly are you?” Lavender practically spits.

“Ginevra Weasley.”

Lavender's face changes from disgust to confusion to shock, then she plasters a bright smile on her face. “You’re Ron’s sister!” Her voice is suddenly sweet as sugar and it takes everything in me not to gag. “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you!”

Ginny scoffs. “Right. So, I hear you two broke up.”

Lavender glances at me before she shrugs. “Ron’s just confused. He’ll realize that I’m who he really wants.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s over Lavender,” I say through gritted teeth. “Move on.”

Lavender sidesteps Ginny and gets right in my face. My hands clench into fists at my sides as I work to restrain myself. “You and Ron are over as well, aren’t you? Because what he did was so unforgivable…how ironic.” She leans in and drops her voice to a whisper. “You fucked my man, so I fucked yours.”

Before I can react, Ginny takes LAvender by the shoulders and starts to lead her away. “I have a favor to ask, Lav,” she sends a wink back at me, and I narrow my eyes at her, wondering what she’s up to.

“I’ve been trying to talk Ron out of this for months,” Ginny says sweetly, “but perhaps, given your influence over him, you can talk some sense into him.”

“Anything,” Lavender says as they stop just a couple of feet away.

“Ron’s tattoo,” Ginny says. “I hate it already, but he wants to add to the god-awful thing.”

Lavender’s head tilts to the side. “His…tattoo?”

I’m confused as well…I love Ron’s tattoo, and Ginny thought it was cute. Or so I thought. Even so…those are my stars. And he never mentioned adding to it…

Ginny nods. “Yes, the dragon? Across his chest?”

My eyes widen. Ron does not have a tattoo on his chest. The stars tattoo is the only tattoo he has. What’s she playing at?…Oh.

Oh!

Lavender stares at Ginny for a split second and then seems to catch herself. “Oh, of course!” She giggles. “I’m sorry, Ginny, but I actually love Ron’s dragon tattoo.” She sends a smirk my way. “It’s so bad arse.” She looks back at Ginny and shrugs. “I hope he adds to it. More skin for me to trace.”

I want to laugh. I want to scream at her for toying with me…with us. I want to tear her limb from limb and then expose her as the lying, scheming, conniving bitch that she is.

I want to kiss Ginny for charging in and getting to the bottom of this whole ordeal in a matter of seconds.

But more than anything, I want to find Ron and snog him until he has no choice but to forgive me for thinking that he would ever do this to me.

Ginny places a hand on Lavender’s shoulder. “That’s fine, Lav. You’ve told us everything that we need to know.”

“Are you going to try to go over there, then?” Harry asks as we pack up our books at the end of class. Truth be told my head was not in class today, but what else was I going to do? If I went to Hermione, she would berate me for not going to class and refuse to listen to me. The last thing I need is to give Hermione more reasons to be upset at me.

But if I’d stayed in my bed, it would have been a continuation of my sleepless night spent tossing and turning and explaining myself out of this over and over again in my head.

This sucks. I know that I didn’t do this. And I’m pretty sure that on some level, Hermione knows too. But what else is she supposed to believe?

That video is pretty damning. I don’t even blame her. Had it been me…

I’m supposed to be the hot-headed one.

I sigh and swing my bag over my shoulder. “It’s now or never, mate,” I say. “Hopefully she’s cooled down enough that she’ll listen to me.”

“She’ll listen,” Harry says. “She just needed time to cool down and analyze the facts in her head. You know her.”

“Yeah,” I say as we make our way to the door. “I know her…that’s the problem.”

I take a deep breath and step out of the building, prepared to jog to Hermione’s apartment and not leave until she believes me.

Better yet, until I’m not leaving at all.

But when I take three steps out into the courtyard, there she is.

Her hair is loose and wild around her shoulders, her sundress gripping her curves down to her hips before it billows around her legs and stops just before her small, sandalled feet. Her fingers twist in front of her, and when I lift my gaze to her face, her eyes are wide and tearful.

I approach her slowly, unsure where her head is. Her eyes stay locked on mine the entire time, and when I reach her, she lunges herself at me.

“Hermione…what?”

“I know, Ron,” she whispers.

“You know?”

She nods against my neck where her face is buried. “I’m sorry I believed that you would…that you…”

“Shh,” I shush her. “I would have believed it too, love. God, I had no idea how I was going to make you see that I didn’t sleep with her. Not when the evidence was so damning.” I release her and look down at her. “That video…Hermione, it wasn’t…that was all Lavender.”

“I know,” she whispers.

“We went to her room to talk, so I could break up with her. And then she must have texted someone so that everyone thought we were…then she mussed up my hair and fuck, I let her. I let her! Next thing I knew…”

“I know,” she whispers again. Her hands come down to my chest and she plays her fingers across me with a small smile.

“How do you know, Hermione?”

Her eyes watch her fingers caress my chest through my t-shirt. “Because you don’t have a tattoo of a dragon across your chest.”

What? I stare at her in confusion. “No…I don’t.”

“I know.” She smiles sweetly up at me. “And anyone who’s shagged you would know too.”

“Yeah?”

She lifts on her toes so I lean down to her. “Lavender seems to think that you do,” she whispers.

“That I do…what? Have a dragon tattoo across my chest?” Hermione nods, a grin spreading across her face. “Why would she think that?”

I stare at her for a moment, then follow her eyes as they flit to where Harry has his arms wrapped around…my sister?

Suddenly I laugh, because this has Ginny written all over it.

I pull her back into me and breathe her in. “I’m still sorry, Hermione. Mea culpa.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she sighs. “And I’m sorry. *Mea maxima culpa,” she chokes. “*I should have known. I did know. A part of me knew but…I just…it was all I could see. You and her…”

“Only you, Mione.” I take her face in my hands and look into her eyes. “I’ve only ever been with you.”

Her eyes widen and she gasps. “Really?”

I nod then lean down and kiss her deeply, hopefully conveying every plan I have for her for the rest of the afternoon.

“Can we please eat now?!” Ginny whines by my side. Hermione and I break our kiss and grin.

“Hey Gin,” I throw an arm around my baby sister and hold her close for a moment. “Thanks,” I whisper.

Ginny winks at me then turns and tugs on Harry’s arm. “To the Bistro!”

Hermione and I laugh as we take off after our best friends hand-in-hand.

“Well, that backfired beautifully.”

Ron and Hermione are taking off across the quad, hands intertwined, hearts in their eyes—for each other

“That’s alright. I have a better plan.”

“Why? Why not just give it up?”

“Because they played everyone with their antics and selfishness and they need to be brought back down from their happy little palace. That’s why.”

Chapter Text

I step into my room and close out the noise from downstairs, where Seamus and Dean are having the row of the century…over how to cook a chicken.

I swear those two need to just snog and get it over with. We all know they’re into each other.

I chuckle as I throw my bag into the corner and strip on the way into my bathroom. I can’t help but wonder if that’s how everyone else felt watching me and Hermione before we finally got together.

Couldn’t have been that bad…we were at least shagging.

I put my phone on the counter and turn to start the shower just as a message comes through.

MyOnly: Velim hodiē equitāre mī cārissimum.

It takes me a moment to translate her message…I’m not as good at Latin as she is, but I can hold my own.

She wants to ride her favorite stud? Well, that can definitely be arranged.

Me: Taking a quick shower and then I’m all yours milady. My place or yours?

MyOnly: Be there in a few.

I take a minute to double-check my translation and spelling before I send my next message.

Me: Nōlī apud mē advenīre nūllās gerēns vestēs quās māvīs intactās.

Her reply is quick. Smart girl.

MyOnly: If you rip my dress Ronald Weasley I will leave.

Me: Then don’t have anything on when I set my eyes on you, love.

I set my phone down with a laugh and step into the shower, standing there so the hot spray rains down my sore back. I’d missed a couple of days of weight training this week so I really let myself have it today. I’m almost regretting it now, but the soreness feels kind of good too.

It takes me a moment to snap out of my daze and I begin to wash myself quickly, reminding myself that my girl will be here soon.

My girl.

I still can’t get over it. The last two weeks since we got ourselves sorted have been everything. We spend most of our days together, outside of our separate classes, study groups here and there, and, of course, whenever I have to be with the team.

But no matter how our day goes, every night she’s in my arms and I’m deep inside her.

Truth be told, much of our lives are the same as before, which makes me feel like a bit of a sod—we were practically in a relationship already.

But now, there’s no one else to contend with. No other girlfriend or boyfriend. No question about how we feel about each other. No one standing in the way of us.

Now, I’m free to kiss her whenever I want, wherever I want. I can hold her little ink-stained hands when we’re walking on campus, pull her into me and nuzzle my nose into her hair, stare at her openly.

Now she’s mine, and everyone knows it. And if they don’t, I have no problem letting them know.

I’ve dreamt of this, her being mine and me being hers, probably since I was thirteen. Maybe longer. Sometimes the freedom to openly love her feels overwhelming. But I love it.

I hop out of the shower and peek at my phone as I towel off, but there are no new texts from Hermione. So I wrap the towel around my waist and step out into my room—

And my eyes bug out when I find a naked girl in my bed.

The moment I enter the house, the sound of Dean and Seamus arguing hits me. I walk passed the kitchen and poke my head into the living room where Harry is studying. I notice the earbuds in his ears and laugh.

Only way to study in this house it would seem.

He glances up at me, smiles, then rolls his eyes. I giggle and shake my head, then motion that I’m heading up.

When I get to Ron’s room, I open his door slowly and peer in.

Empty.

Good, he’s still in the shower.

“Don’t come over wearing anything you don’t want ripped,” he’d texted me in Latin. As much as the thought of him ripping off my clothes turns me on, I love this dress.

It was followed up with “Then don’t have anything on when I set my eyes on you, love.”

Now that could be arranged.

I kick off my flats and then strip out of my dress, bra, and knickers, placing them neatly on top of his trunk in the corner. When I climb into Ron’s bed, his scent surrounds me and I close my eyes with a smile.

The fact that he’s all mine is still a lot to take in. I mean, I guess he’s always been mine, but now we both know it, and everyone else does too. It’s been a relief to not have to keep my feelings in check around him. To gaze at him and openly just enjoy being near him. I didn’t realize how exhausting the last few years had really been until everything was out in the open. My heart has never felt this relaxed and at ease.

I hear the shower go off and I smile, almost giddy with anticipation. I swear, I woke up to him in my bed just this morning, and yet I am insatiable for him.

It’s a wonder I make it to class and get any study time in.

When he steps out of the bathroom, his towel loose around his trim waist, I take a moment to take him in. It doesn’t matter how many times I see his body, every time is still a jolt to my system.

His shoulders are strong and broad, his arms long and slim but muscular. I once heard the term “arm porn” and instantly thought of Ron.

His chest is smooth, with only a few sparse hairs sprinkled in among the freckles. And as hard as it is from years of being an athlete, it’s always soft when I rest my head on it.

Abs of steel lead down to that sexy as fuck V which points me to where I want to go. I can’t see his thighs under the towel, but I can tell you every muscular dip and groove on them.

My eyes run back up the length of him to his eyes, and I smile when I see that he’s doing the same thing to me.

“No fair,” I say.

“What’s not fair, love?”

I smile at the endearment. “You have nothing obstructing your view, while I have to imagine what’s under that towel.”

A devilish grin spreads across his face, and his hand releases the towel, which drops to his feet.

“Much better,” I sigh as my eyes take in those gorgeous thighs and that long, hard cock practically reaching for me.

Before he can move, I stand from the bed and stretch myself in front of him for a kiss that’s slow and sensual. “Had a nice shower?” I ask. He nods, his eyes still taking me in. “Get everything nice and clean?”

His eyebrow ticks up and I can see him fighting a smile. “Might’ve missed a spot,” he mumbles. “Can you get it for me?”

“But of course.” I wink, lowering myself to my knees and wrapping my fingers around his length. “Right here, was it?” I run my tongue up the length of him and kiss the tip, precum already greeting my lips.

“Yes,” he hisses. On my next run, his eyes close and his head rolls back. “Fuck, Mione.”

I repeat this a couple more times before I take him into my mouth. His groan urges me on, and I give him just the amount of pressure I know he loves, humming when his fingers scrape my scalp and then tug at my hair in response.

“Bloody fuck,” he breathes out. “Tha’so good Love.”

He jerks when my fingers tease his balls, and I know he’s already close. I want him to explode in my mouth so I double down my efforts, smiling and humming around his length when his thigh begins to tremble slightly.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he moans, and then I feel his orgasm coming before it hits. I marvel at the sense of power and deep satisfaction I feel whenever I make him lose control like this.

I’ve barely swiped the back of my hand across my mouth when I’m in the air, my back landing on Ron’s mattress. Before I can say a word, my legs are spread wide and his mouth is devouring my sex. “Ronald!” I finally breathe out through my moans. In response, his large hands comes down hard on the fleshiest part of my thigh. I groan at the sting of pain mixed with the intense pleasure of his lips and his tongue on my clit. “Yes!” I scream when I feel his teeth nip at me. “Yes! More, please!”

Without warning, two long fingers are inside me, curling and finding hidden spots of pleasure that only Ronald Weasley knows exist. His name expels from my mouth in something between a groan and a squeal as I explode against his mouth.

I know I’m still pulsing when he drives himself deep inside me, his lips now peppering kisses along my neck and face before he claims my mouth. Our tastes mix on our tongues making me pull him closer for more. My legs wrap around his waist, my arms around his neck. I swear I love him so much I want to mold myself to his skin and never let go.

“I love you,” I breathe out against his slick skin. “I love you so much.”

Ron slows his movements and looks into my eyes, his gaze hooded and drunk. Drunk on me.

“Fuck, Mione,” he whispers, his hips moving almost torturously slow and yet deliciously deep as his next words bury themselves into every part of me. “I’m so in love with you, baby.”

The intensity of the moment almost brings tears to my eyes. Every sexual encounter I’ve had with Ron pales in comparison to these moments since we’ve been officially together. I realize that those were shags…fucks. Our way of taking the only pieces of each other that we thought we could. Giving the only pieces of each other we thought were being sought.

This…My goodness, this is what making love truly is, isn’t it? This is giving all of ourselves to one another. This is…everything.

Ron dips his head into my neck and picks up the pace once more. “Come for me,” he demands, his low, hoarse voice washing over me. He lifts my bum and adjusts the angle and I scream out his name. “That’s it,” he coaxes. “Come for me, Mione.”

In seconds I’m shattering around him, and with a muffled roar, Ron follows. Our bodies quiver together and I hang onto him for dear life, trying to catch my breath.

It’s Friday night, so we spend the rest of the evening lounging around in his room, content with just being alone together. Ron orders us dinner and after we eat, we alternate between watching movies, shagging, talking about everything and nothing, and shagging some more.

When I wake up Saturday morning sore and with his arms wrapped around me, I can’t help the smile that’s fixed across my face.

Ron’s arms tighten around me and he nuzzles his nose into the back of my head. “Mernin’,” he mumbles. I feel his lips kiss the back of my neck and I sigh.

“Morning.” I roll over to face him, my arms and legs wrapping around him. “Sleep well?”

He smiles. “With you in my arms? Always.”

I grin and bury my face into his chest. I still can barely believe that this is my life.

Ron clears his throat. “So uh…I was thinking—”

“That’s what that burning smell is?” I quip. He pinches my butt and I squeal.

“Knock it off, Granger,” he laughs.

I bring myself up to lean on my elbow and trace my finger across his jaw. “What were you thinking, Ron?”

“Well…I was thinking of moving out of here to get my own apartment off campus this summer. Our own apartment.” He bites his lip and avoids my gaze—he’s nervous.

As if I would say no to the prospect of living with him.

“I think that’s perfect,” I say with a grin. His eyes connect with mine.

“Really?”

“Really.”

His smile is wide and so adorable I wish I had my phone handy to snap a photo. Instead, I do my best to take in every detail of this moment so I can keep it forever.

“We’ll take our time looking,” I tell him. “That way we can find somewhere we can be comfortable for a while.”

Ron nods. “Our home for senior year and hopefully after, when we’re both professors here,” he grins.

I shrug. “I’ll be happy with a research position. Then maybe I’ll start grad school. We’re definitely staying at Bridgeton, then?”

“I would like to…if that’s what you want, too.” I nod. “Then we’ll plan and hope to stay…but if one of us gets a job offer elsewhere then what?”

I rest my head back on his chest, his heartbeat rumbling through my ears. “If you get an offer anywhere, I’ll go with you,” I declare.

“Really?”

I raise my head again. “Why the tone of surprise?” I ask. “You, Professor Weasley, are mine. And I will follow you to the ends of the earth.”

Ron pulls me down and captures my lips with his. “And I you,” he says softly.

When my head is back on his chest he chuckles.

“What’s so funny?”

“Well,” he chuckles again, “I was just thinking that if we both end up teaching at the same school, there’ll eventually be two Professor Weasleys.” My head pops back up and now it’s my turn to be surprised. His eyes go wide, likely realizing what he just said. “I mean…um…”

“I love how you just assume,” I start with a smirk, “that I’m just going to take your name.”

He laughs. “Oh, but of course—Professor Granger-Weasley, then?”

I stand and shrug as I saunter to the bathroom. “Less confusing that way,” I call back to him.

I close the door and bite back a squeal.

Chapter Text

“Oh my GAWD, final exams are finally OVER!”

I laugh as Susan makes a slightly drunken, lousy attempt for a pirouette up the driveway. Hannah throws her head back and I can see she likely wants to do an actual pirouette to show Susan up, given that Hannah actually has dance experience.

Susan, however, does not—the poor dear.

Hannah hooks her arm with mine as we follow Susan into the Rho Delta Pi house, where a party is raging.

Bridgeton Football is also having a party, at Ron’s house of course. We’ll end the night there, but as it’s Susan’s birthday and she has been crushing on one of the Rho Delta Pi brothers hard, Hannah and I agreed to accompany her to this party first.

“If things go well, you two can head back to your guys,” Susan promises us. “I’ll be fine.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Hannah says. She has to raise her voice as we’ve just stepped over the threshold and the music is so loud. “If you think we’re leaving you alone in a frat house you’re barking!”

“Besides,” I pull Susan closer so I don’t have to shout quite so loud, “showing up and then leaving is what you want to do!” Susan looks at me questioningly. “Make it seem like you have elsewhere to be. Make him miss you…chase you.”

Susan grins widely and points at me. “Nice one, Granger!”

We dance our way into the house, all three of us a bit tipsy having pre-gamed at our apartment. “Just a couple hours then,” Susan yells back to us. “I promise!”

I wave her off as we survey the area. The night will end at Ron’s, that’s all that matters. I’ll give Susan as long as she needs to make her move.

We’re in the kitchen having procured drinks, and Susan is still keeping an eye out for her Rho Delta Pi brother when I feel eyes on me. I take a long sip from my cup to use it as a cover, looking around the room. When my gaze lands on a tall form making his way towards me, I frown.

“Fancy meeting you here, Granger.”

I sigh. “Is there something I can do for you, Smith?”

Zacharias leans in way too close and leers. “You’ve done plenty.” He stands up straight and winks at me as he starts to step away. “Tell your beau hello, will you?”

I make a face until he leaves.

“Who the bloody hell was that tosser?” Hannah asks, scowling at his back as he weaves his way back through the party.

“Zacharias Smith,” I answer. “He’s no one. Best friends with Ernie, though I have no idea why. They’re so different.” I shrug and turn my attention back to the girls. “Ernie’s a sweetheart. Zacharias? Well…he’s not.”

“He looks like an arse,” Susan says with a giggle. “An arse without an arse.” We all burst into raucous laughter at Susan’s joke. “Oh!” she exclaims. “There he is!” She turns back to us and fluffs her hair. “Good?”

Hannah reaches out and rubs away a bit of smudged lipstick with her thumb then tucks Susan’s stray bra strap back out of view. “Perfect. Go get ‘im tiger.” And she sends Susan off with a smack to her backside. I giggle and lean into Hannah as we watch our girl saunter off, ready for a night playing wingwoman.

“Guess who showed up, mate!” Seamus yells in my ear.

I whip around half expecting to see Hermione strolling through the door with her girls, but my gaze lands on blonde hair instead.

“What the bloody hell is she doing here?”

Seamus shrugs. “Maybe she thought you wouldn’t be here?”

I look at Seamus with an incredulous look on my face. “I literally live here. Where the bloody fuck else would I be?”

“Don’t sweat it,” Harry says beside me. “Party’s big enough that you can avoid her.”

I roll my eyes and throw back the rest of my drink, determined to enjoy myself. Final exams are over, I’m pretty sure I aced every one of my exams—except maybe Biology…that one threw me for a loop—and in a couple of hours, Hermione will be here.

Then maybe I can dip out on the rest of the party and take her sweet arse up to my room for the rest of the night. A drunk Hermione is an extremely horny Hermione.

I’m smiling to myself at the thought when a hand touches my arm.

“You were saying, Harry,” I growl as I turn to face my ex.

“Hi, Ron,” Lavender says in a sugary sweet voice.

I cross my arms and look down at her, wondering what plan she has up her sleeves tonight.

She huffs when I don’t respond. “Look, I know you’re still angry with me and I’ve wanted to apologize but you’re just always with her.” She glances around. “I suppose she’s not here or she would be glued to your side.”

I roll my eyes and glare at her. “What do you want, Lavender?”

“Do you have to be so mean?” she asks, feigning hurt. It’s all an act, I see right through it now.

“Can you blame me? After that shit you pulled do you really expect me to play nice?”

“Why? Because I hurt your precious Hermione”

“Leave her out of this!”

“Well, she hurt me!” Lavender continues despite my warning. “You hurt me!”

“And I’m sorry,” I grit out through my teeth. “But that was on me. There was no need for you to do what you did.” Lavender simply shrugs. “Unbelievable.” I turn, ready to walk away and end this conversation, but Lavender grabs my arm to stop me.

“Look, wait…I’m sorry, okay.” I pause and look back at her. “Maybe I shouldn’t have. But I did care about you. I do care about you. I just…I…What I mean is…be careful.”

“What?”

“Be careful,” she says again. “With…her. She may not be who you think she is.”

“What the bloody hell does that mean?”

“You’ll see soon enough.” And with that final seriously cryptic message, she turns and walks away.

“Should we chuck her out?” Seamus asks from beside me.

I refill my cup and shrug. “I don’t give a fuck whether she stays or goes, mate.” I grab a stack of clean shot glasses and line them up with a grin. “Who’s up for shot roulette?”

It’s over an hour later and I am three sheets to the wind. It’s not often that I get this sloshed but with the end of exams and the presence of Lavender—who hung about for whatever reason—here I am. It’s fine though. I’m in my house and my girl will be here soon enough. In the meantime, I’m surrounded by my mates—my team. They won’t let anything go down if Lavender is planning to try something. I probably should have kicked her out, but I didn’t much feel like making a scene. I’d rather just enjoy my night. If she thinks she’s going to lure me away to do something, she has another thing coming. For one, I know for a fact that Dean is completely sober tonight.

Not that I’m incoherent or anything. I’m a good drunk—I still have my wits about me.

“Tell the girls to come back!” I yell at Neville. Harry took my phone when I almost dropped it into a full cup of beer…I might have bet someone it would float.

I said I’m coherent… that doesn’t mean I’m not completely out of my mind.

“Hannah says they’ll head back in an hour,” Neville calls to me.

“That’s too long!” I whine, fully aware that I sound like a toddler. “Harry! Give me my phone!”

“No!” Harry shouts from across the room. “This is your third phone in a year, mate.” He gives me a look and I admit defeat.

Not my fault I lost a phone to the depths of the loo and then another down three flights of stairs.

Alright…totally my fault.

“Hermione knows Harry has your phone,” Neville says to me. “Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

I’m leaning against the wall a while later, nursing a beer to try to gather myself, when I feel a shift in the air around me. There’s murmuring and tension and I look around to try to figure out why.

Everyone’s looking at their phones, and then at…me?

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I can feel the glances around the room as if everyone is physically poking at me. My eyes catch on Lavender’s, and she raises an eyebrow, then looks back at her own phone.

“Harry,” I say as he stumbles past me, “give me my phone, mate?”

“Why?”

“Just give me my phone.” My voice sounds way more sober than I am, but that works to my advantage because Harry pulls it out of his pocket and hands it over without another question.

“Ron, wait!” Seamus is stumbling through the room towards me, his own phone in his hand and Dean behind him.

“Maybe you should-” Dean starts.

But it’s too late. I’ve seen the missed text message.

Unknown Number: How does it feel knowing your girl is the campus slut?”

The message has a link attached to it, and without thinking, I click it. It takes me to a video on the site Porntopia entitled “Shagging the Smartest Campus Slag—ZS & HG go at it”, and my stomach turns.

The video’s a bit dark, but I can clearly make out the guy in the video. I know the bloke. His name’s Zacharias Smith, and he’s grinning at the camera, likely his phone given the rectangular shape of the video. Bouncing on his lap facing him, her slender back to the camera, is a girl with a full head of long brown curls.

My girl.

Chapter Text

I look up from my phone and scan the room. Despite the music blasting, it feels quiet. Aside from a few whispers here and there, everyone is silent and looking at either me or at their phones.

Whoever sent this to me obviously sent it to the campus at large.

“Mate?” Dean says, approaching me as if he’s approaching a snarling bear.

Everyone is watching this video of my girl. Everyone.

My girl.

Bouncing on another bloke’s dick.

Fuck. FUCK!

Rage fills every inch of me and I either scream or roar. Maybe both. I’m not sure how it comes out but I know it’s loud. And along with it, my phone is thrown from my hand and hits the wall, breaking into pieces. I vaguely hear Harry mumble a curse beside me as if he’s the one who’ll have to replace it.

But I can’t even be fussed with that right now. First I have to gauge the eyes of every person in this room and remove the memory of my naked girl from their brains. Then I have to find Smith and commit murder.

Then…Hermione.

“Maybe it’s not her,” Harry says, holding me against the wall. I don’t even realize I’m fighting him until I feel Seamus and Dean’s hands on me too.

“She wouldn’t do this,” I hear Neville’s voice, Dean and Seamus agreeing and trying to talk me down. “It’s dark in the video—there’s no way to tell for sure if—”

“No way to tell?!” I bellow. “It’s all right there, isn’t it?! It’s her! It’s…” I stop, my mind racing and my breaths coming in sharp bursts. No way to tell…No way to…

“Give me your phone,” I say to the guys, holding my hand out for a phone—any phone. After some hesitation—can you blame them?—one is placed in my palm. Harry’s. I know it’s his when my sister’s face smiles up at me from the locked screen.

There’s no need to pull up the video once I unlock the phone, it’s still open. I stand there, surrounded by my mates, and watch the video again. This time with a clearer head.

This time, I see all I need to see. This time, I see what’s not there.

After that, it takes me two seconds to get the information I need from social media.

I look up and find Dean. “Can you drive?” He nods, his face apprehensive. “Take me to the Rho Delta Pi house.”

If there’s one thing the RDP brothers know how to do, it’s throw a party. Hannah and I are having the time of our lives dancing and singing every song we know at the top of our lungs, all while keeping an eye on Susan, who’s dancing with her crush and smiling up at him as if he’s hung the moon. To be fair, there are definitely stars in his eyes too.

I love this for her.

“She’s enjoying herself,” Hannah yells to me over the music, her head tilting towards our friend.

“She is!” I laugh. “Good call on the fake stumble!”

Hannah had told Susan to ‘fall into him’ as if she’d lost her balance, let him think he’d saved her from the perils of falling onto the disgusting sticky floor.

To be fair, he likely did save her life. I shudder at the stickiness under my shoes as I dance.

Hannah goes to the bathroom and my eyes follow her protectively as I continue to dance beside two of the brothers I know, Dennis and Luke. Dennis’ real brother is Ron’s teammate, so they know Ron and Neville and have been nothing but respectful. It also helps that Dennis and Luke only have eyes for one another. They’ve been doing silly dances with us all night and just keeping us company.

I’m dancing and laughing with Dennis when I feel eyes on me again. I glance around to see if it’s Zacharias still trying to give me the creeps, but instead, find a group of guys in the corner alternating between looking at their phones and watching me. One of them licks his lips and looks me up and down, and I suddenly feel naked.

What the hell?

Not knowing what to make of this, my eyes drift over the crowd looking for Susan and Hannah, and I find more clusters of people looking at their phones and at me. I’m about to march over to one group to demand to know what they’re looking at when Hannah runs up to me.

“Hermione!” she yells, panic in her voice. “Neville just got this link! Apparently, it’s being sent to all the guys on campus!”

I look at her in confusion as I take the phone from her. I look down at her screen to see a video. It’s from a popular porn site and features none other than Zacharias Smith and some bimbo. I look back up at Hannah in question just as Susan runs up to us.

“Read the video title,” Hannah urges.

I look at the video again. “ ‘ZS and HG’… ‘smartest campus slag’…what?”

“They’re saying it’s you,” Hannah says, her eyes wide.

I look at the video again and see how. The hair, the slim waist, the small stature. But…

“That’s not me,” I say to my roommates. I look up and my eyes go back and forth between them, as well as to Dennis and to Luke, who now also have their phones out, their wide eyes on me. “That’s not me! I didn’t…I never…NO! That’s obviously not me!”

I glance around again and feel as if the room is closing in on me. Almost everyone’s eyes are on me and I want to scream at them all. But I don’t care what any of them think. I only care about—

“Ron,” Susan breathes.

“I know!” I cry. “If he sees this if he thinks…I have to—”

“No,” Susan shakes her head. “Ron!”

She’s looking behind me and suddenly I feel him before I turn. When I do, I gasp. His already tall frame which would normally fill any doorway, seems to swell and overpower the room. His face is red and his eyes could turn anyone to stone. He’s scanning the room and his eyes lock on someone near the kitchen. I watch, immobile, as he stalks through the room and heads straight for…

Zacharias Smith—who has no idea that he may as well be wearing a red shirt in a bullpen.

Ron’s first punch snaps me out of my daze.

“Ron!” I screech, making my way towards them. Just before I get to him, a pair of arms wrap around me.

“Wait,” Harry says. “You’ll get hurt!”

I didn’t even realize Harry was here. Beside him are Dean and Seamus, and I see Hannah move to peer around Neville. I can tell by the guys’ faces, that they’re all ready to jump in with Ron.

But it seems he has it in hand.

“YOU BLOODY FUCKING TOSSER!” he roars, throwing another punch to Zacharias’ already bloody face. Zacharias stumbles and Ron lifts him by his shirt, slamming him against the wall. Zacharias may be tall, but Ron is significantly taller…and even bigger when he’s this angry.

Zacharias grins through the blood running from his nose and mouth. “Nice ride that slag of a girlfr—”

Ron cuts him off with another punch to the jaw, his other hand still holding him against the wall by the throat.

“Nice try prick! I dunno who the fuck that poor bird is but it’s not my girl!”

I breathe a sigh of relief. He noticed…Ron knows it’s not me.

Of course, he noticed.

“Did you even watch the video?” Zacharias spits. “It’s obviously—”

“Yeah, I watched the video,” Ron growls. “And unless your editing skills are that good, something’s missing. It’s. Not. Her.” He slams Zacharias’ body against the wall with each word.

“Stay the fuck away from me and my girl.” With that, Ron throws Zacharias to the ground and turns. When his eyes lock with mine, they flash. He stalks towards me, grabs my hand, and with a bark of “let’s go!” we’re all filing out of the door behind him.

The minute Ron’s bedroom door slams shut behind us, I’m against it, my legs wrapping around his waist as he virtually attacks me in a bruising kiss. I return the kiss and tighten my legs around him, my fingers buried in his hair.

“Ron,” I whimper against his lips, my voice coming out like a plea. In a matter of minutes, my skirt is pushed up to my waist, my knickers are ripped from my body, and he’s buried to the hilt inside me. I groan loud enough to wake the dead. Luckily, the music is still blaring below, so there’s no need to care.

Not that I would anyway.

“Fuck,” he breathes against my ear as he thrusts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His hands grip me, one on my ass, the other on the back of my neck. “Mine,” he hisses. “All. Fucking. Mine.”

“Yes!” My arms tighten around his neck as I hang on for dear life. “Oh, Ron! I’m yours,” I cry. “I’m yours!”

The world crashes around us as we orgasm together, and then we lean heavily against the door, both shuddering with aftershocks.

We don’t move as we catch our breath. Finally, I feel his lips brush against my jaw.

“Fuck,” he groans as if he’s in pain. “I believed it. For a minute I…I thought…I really thought—”

“Shhh.” I lean my head back against the door and look into his eyes. “Of course you did. I don’t blame you for believing it. You were meant to.”

Ron nods then looks down at us, the fog seeming to clear from his eyes. “Fuck, m’sorry, love.” He eases me down to my feet and I immediately feel the loss of his warmth.

“Lie down with me?” I ask. He nods, watching as I pull my shirt over my head and kick off my skirt. My bra goes next and lands near the remains of my knickers. I crawl into his bed to watch him as he undresses and then climbs in beside me. Even with the music and noise from downstairs, up here it feels as if we’re in our own little world.

He lays next to me and I roll onto my stomach, my eyes on his. He kisses my shoulder, then I feel his fingers ghost down my back. I close my eyes when I feel him tracing a pattern right where my arse and back meet.

Tracing stars.

“When I didn’t see them,” he whispers, “when I realized they weren’t there…when I knew it wasn’t you…” He leans down and his lips replace his fingers, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on the tattoo there. “I thought I could cry,” he finishes. “I wanted to cry.” He brings his face back level with mine, his hands still on the stars. “It wasn’t you.”

When we got our matching tattoos years ago, no one knew except for his brother Charlie—the tattooist. To this day, not even Harry knows my tattoo is there. Ron’s is visible on the inside of his bicep, of course, but the fact that I have a matching tattoo of binary stars high on my backside remains a secret, only between us.

“It wasn’t you,” he repeats, pulling me into him.

“Never,” I whisper. “Only you, Ron. I’ve only ever been with you.”

Chapter Text

After the party and almost disastrous night, Ron and I spent the next couple of days hiding out at his house—mostly in his room. Thankfully, news of the fight made it around campus and it seemed that word was getting around that the girl in the video was not me.

At the very least, those who Ron and I cared about the most know the truth—and have no problems spreading that truth.

As we hide out, the campus starts to clear out with the semester having come to an end. Ron and I are walking through the quiet campus a few days after the party, having finally dragged ourselves out of bed to get breakfast at the Bistro, when I hear my name being called behind us.

“Hermione! Wait a sec!”

When we turn, Ernie is jogging up to us. Ron stiffens beside me and I feel the renewed rage overflowing from him.

Naturally, he thinks that Ernie has something to do with everything, but I’m not so sure.

“Hey,” Ernie says as he walks the rest of the way up to us. He nods at Ron. “Hi, Ron.” Ron grunts in response but Ernie seems unbothered. Or perhaps he expects this.

“Listen,” Ernie turns his attention to me, “I was going to call you but I’m glad I saw you, both of you.” He glances at Ron but looks back at me. “I just wanted to let you know I had nothing to do with what happened—with what Zacharias did.”

“Oh no?” Ron says somewhat harshly.

Ernie sighs, his eyes jumping to Ron. “No, I promise I had no idea.” He looks at me again, his eyes wide and sincere. “Despite whatever’s being said about our time together,” his eyes glance at Ron again and I know he’s likely heard the truth—that I cheated on him with Ron, “I would never do that to you. Or be okay with anything like that being done.” Ernie shrugs. “It is what it is. You ended things with me and I accepted that. But somehow, when I told Zach…” He shakes his head. “We’ve been best friends for years, and the guy’s always felt like he has to protect me or something. Says I’m too nice and trusting…Maybe I am, but I just don’t let shit get to me the way he does. I never understood him but I usually just roll with his antics. This, however, was too far and I’m so sorry.”

I nod and smile. “I believe you,” I say softly. “I knew you wouldn't ever condone something like this.”

Ernie shakes his head and I feel Ron relax beside me.

“Not at all,” Ernie says. “When I found out…I honestly don’t know why he felt like he needed to avenge me or what-have-you.”

I shrug. “He never liked me,” I say. “It was obvious from when you first introduced us.” I sigh and look down. “I guess in a way I can understand why.

Ernie lifts my chin to look at him. I swear I hear a faint growl from Ron, but he doesn’t do anything otherwise.

“Whether what everyone is saying is true or not, I don’t care. The truth is, I could see from the first time you introduced me to Ron how you felt about him, and yet I still pursued a relationship with you.” He drops his hand and shrugs. “I put myself in that position. I guess I hoped you’d have a change of heart.”

“I’m sorry, Ernie.”

“I’m sorry too,” he says. “I’m just happy that it worked out for the two of you. Even with the sabotage thrown your way.”

“Where’s the saboteur now?” Ron asks.

Ernie chuckles mirthlessly. “Probably at Lavender’s licking his wounds,” he mumbles.

“Zacharias and Lavender?” I gasp.

Ernie nods. “Funnily enough, they’ve started to shag.” He shudders. “He spends most of his time there now, which is fine with me. He can stay out of the apartment until I move out later this month. I can’t even look at him after all of this. Plus, he’s hiding because Sara is looking for him.”

“Who’s Sara?” Ron asks, but I think I have an idea…

“The girl in the video,” Ernie says, confirming my suspicions. “Zach dated Sara last summer, and they made that video, but then Sara cheated…” Ernie got a thoughtful look in his eye and then glanced at me. “I…I think you reminded him of Sara.”

I nod slowly. “Makes sense.”

“She was short,” I make a face at Ernie and he chuckles, “and had long curly hair. It was a bit lighter than yours, but of course, in the dark video, you can’t tell. I guess Zach saw his opportunity to get back at both of you.”

“And now Sara is hunting him down,” Ron says with a smirk.

“Oh she’s threatening legal action,” Ernie says.

“As she should!” I retort. “I thought about it myself!”

Ernie nods. “I don’t blame you. I’ve got to meet with my advisor, but I’m glad I saw you both. I just…I needed to make sure you knew. I’m disgusted by what he pulled,” he repeats. “If I had known I would have stopped him. I’m so sorry.”

“I appreciate that,” I say, leaning up to hug him briefly. When I step back I give him a warm smile.

After Ernie shakes Ron’s hand and takes off, Ron and I begin to walk again. The campus is quiet, which is nice. Most everyone has moved out of the dorms. The scattered students that are left are mostly those who live around campus and haven’t moved out yet or are staying around for summer classes like us.

“We did this, you know,” I say softly.

Ron’s quiet for a moment, and I can sense he’s thinking that no, Zacharias and Lavender did this, but then he sighs. “We uh…yeah…we definitely weren’t innocent in all of this.” He squeezes my hand in his. “If we’d been honest with one another from the beginning…”

“We wouldn’t have hurt so many others along the way,” I finish for him.

“Zacharias Smith is still a tosser, though,” Ron says through gritted teeth. “And Lavender still shouldn’t have—”

“Oh, I’m not downplaying their parts in this,” I add quickly. “Just that, we’re at fault, too.”

Ron shrugs. “All we can do is apologize and move forward…which we have. And hope that forgiveness comes.”

“At least we have Ernie’s forgiveness,” I smile. “That’s something.”

“He’s a good bloke,” Ron says. “I knew he didn’t have anything to do with this whole thing.”

I look up at him from the corner of my eye, an eyebrow raised.

He laughs. “Alright! Alright, maybe I did think he played a small part…”

I give him a playful shove, then wrap my arms around his arm leaning into him as I walk.

“Mea Culpa,” I whisper.

“To me?” Ron asks.

“To you, to all of our exes, to everyone we lied to…” I look up at him. “Including ourselves.”

“No more lies,” Ron says, his arm going around my shoulders. “Mea culpa,” he calls out dramatically. “Mea culpa, Mea maxima culpa!”

I stand with my hands in my pockets and watch as Hermione takes a lap around the kitchen island, her fingers lightly grazing the surface. I’m nervous, but optimistic based on her expression.

We’re three weeks into the summer and have spent most of our free time trying to find an apartment before the fall rush gets all the good ones. When I came across this apartment only two blocks from campus, I knew I had to jump on it. I just hope she likes it, too.

“I do love this kitchen,” she says.

“Can you see yourself whipping me up some dinner in this kitchen?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “I can see us reheating a lot of carry-out in this kitchen,” she jokes.

Yeah, Hermione’s not much of a cook, but that’s fine. I learned a lot from my mum, so between my skills and carry-out, we’ll make it fine.

At least she can bake.

She wanders over to the little nook that’s off the living area. The apartment is small, but it’s within our budget. It has one bedroom, but there is a little open area off the living area and kitchen that I was told has been used as another room when needed. I guess it’s supposed to be the dining room, but most college students have no need for a separate dining area. Not when the kitchen has bar space to sit and eat.

“Office or a spare bed for guests?” I ask as she spins around in the extra space. It has a nice bay window where I could see Hermione sitting with a book.

“Both, I think,” she answers. “We can fit that small futon in your room in here, and there’s still plenty of space for a desk and bookcase.”

I smile wide as I watch her furnish the space to our tastes in her mind.

“So…this is it then? Our new home?”

Hermione turns and smiles back at me. Before I can take my next breath, she’s across the room and in my arms.

“This is it, Ron,” she says.

She leans back and gazes up at me, her gorgeous brown eyes staring into my blue one.

“I am so looking forward to this next year with you,” I say, thinking about our senior year together.

“I’m looking forward to forever with you, Ronald Weasley.”

“Synchōrō,” I chuckle because she has a point there. “Touché, my love.”