cleverness | oh, kiss me with your eyelashes tonight

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oh, kiss me with your eyelashes tonight

Maybe Rapture was a mistake.

Hermione Granger was a girl who often looked back on the past for any number of reasons. Although the saying was certainly trite and quite possibly overused, there was truth in the claim that history always repeated itself. While humans had made impossible amounts of progress in the past couple of millennia, human nature sometimes seemed incapable of changing much at all. And it was that same nature of Hermione's own that had her reflecting upon the foolishness of heading down the Rapture. That had her realizing, more than ever, how much more helpless all of them were, not only in deciding where they walked or where they stayed on the island, but even defending one another against threats that wouldn't have been much at all, just months ago. With Rapture still teeming with activity, Hermione practically swearing that she could feel it rumbling still beneath her feet, her heart raced as she and Ron stepped back inside their hut. Her hand tightly gripped his own.

"Harry?" she called out as soon as they entered, never letting go of Ron's grip as the pad of her thumb ran lightly against his hand. After a couple seconds of silence, she turned to Ron with an anxious look, brow furrowed as she leaned in to rest her forehead against his shoulder, feeling her hair drip water down the small of her back. "He hasn't returned yet. Merlin, what if something happens to him?"

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Trying to keep her face as steady as possible, which was difficult considering the flush that she felt spreading down to her neck, Hermione pressed her lips together and cleared her throat. "Ron," she said, aiming for a serious tone, although the fact that she couldn't seem to make eye contact with Ron at all diluted the effect. "The both of us have just, in front of each other, taken our pants off. Which... I don't know about you, but I can't remember the last time I've done that in front of another person, and certainly not for this. So... I think laughing's the only thing to do." Biting down on her lower lip once more, Hermione pressed a peck against Ron's lips before dissolving into giggles again, reaching over for the condom packet before sliding over to the head of the bed again and laying on her side.

Trying her best to avoid the temptation to shake the little square of plastic in the air, Hermione lightly patted the spot next to her. Arching her brow invitingly, Hermione raised her chin just a touch, her tone airy. "But if you think I'm not supposed to laugh, by all means." She smiled shyly, her shoulder raising as she felt her pulse quicken again. "Stop me."

Her smile faded, Hermione finally slowing enough to get a better look at Ron, finding herself at once tempted to look away and yet unable to in the least.

Right. Make Hermione stop laughing.

That was easy enough for her to say when she'd left him laughing so hard that his cheeks hurt. He didn't think there'd ever been a time he'd taken his pants off in front of anyone either, and now that she'd brought up just how mad all of this really was, his nervousness had bubbled up as laughter as well. And the way she'd started going on, Ron half expected Hermione to start quoting passages from Hogwarts: A History, though somehow he doubted there were any chapters on this in that bloody book.

"You're mental," he said, with a huff of a laugh as he moved to the head of the bed to lie down next to her again, not entirely sure whether or not he was supposed to keep his eyes above her shoulders or whether he was allowed to actually look. He managed a quick glance again before he felt his face grow hot all over again. Maybe the best thing to do was to just dive in again, to push past the nerves and the laughter. Only, when he leaned in to kiss her again, cupping her with one hand before he lost the nerve to give it a go, he found himself breaking into a chuckle all over again.

It was contagious, it was.

It was clear now that Ron was making an effort, and this time one entirely too self-conscious, Hermione feeling very much as though he were simply going through the motions. The hand on her breast drew another giggle from her lips as she tried to keep a straight face, cheeks flushing wildly as she scooted nearer, supposing that if the two of them didn't look too closely at one another, that the laughter might subside. Where Ron hadn't quite been able, Hermione leaned in the rest of the way to press a kiss to his lips again, deliberately slowing her pace and, once she worked up the courage, letting her lips travel down the side of his neck again. She'd always liked the shape of his neck, and had in the past few years, become acutely aware of the distinct smell that lingered on his clothing, that she was able to press her nose gingerly to now. Her eyes closed with a sensation not quite like drowsiness, that couldn't be anything like it with the way her heart hammered, but that still left her movements more languid than before.

Nudging her hips forward, she felt the press of him lower as well, and breaking the attention she was paying his neck, nodded lightly. "Maybe," she murmured. Maybe she really was a bit mental, laughing during a time like this. But the comfort and the ability to do so, to admit to nerves and dips in confidence, was ever a part of their relationship, and not one she wanted to give up. Her hand glided down his side again, feeling the curve of his hip, before she slid her fingertips towards the tangle of hair and found him. Biting down in concentration on her lower lip, she took him in her palm, feeling her breath catch upon making contact and heat pooling within herself, a mix of curiosity and nerves. Leaning forward, she allowed her forehead to press against the side of his neck, too anxious to pull away and look him in the eye.

And that was when the laughing stopped.

Not that, despite it all, he'd minded them laughing through this all that much. In fact, it'd relieved some of the tension there, and had made sure Ron hadn't worried himself into not being able to do any of this. Not that he through Hermione was really going to tell him that he was doing it all wrong, but he'd already mucked up their first date, hadn't he? He felt like enough of a git already, for just that.

"Hermione... that's..." he said, not able to complete the thought. Ron's eyes lidded shut as her hand wrapped around him, her palm warm and soft against his hardness and he let out an involuntary gasp of surprise. Just her hand being there felt bloody good, so good that he couldn't think straight, like he'd been caught on the wrong end of a confundus charm. Though... any better and he was worried that he might be done before they'd even had the chance to get started properly. He didn't exactly have any experience with this, but it was a fair bet they weren't going for that.

Ron gripped her breast more firmly in response, burying his face in her hair for a moment before he dipped his head to catch her mouth in another kiss.

It was rather difficult to attempt and discern whether or not Ron's surprise was positive in this context, but as he seemed to make no effort to turn away, Hermione could only assume that she'd managed to do something right, biting down on her lower lip as she continued to stroke, even as her face burned with embarrassment. The problem, however, was that while it seemed to be pleasing Ron on the whole, Hermione's actions also managed to distract him from the task— act?— at hand, until he squeezed her breast with a bit too much force, Hermione stiffening in the middle of their kiss, trying her best to suppress the noise in her throat.

Although she briefly considered telling him that he needed to be a bit more gentle, chances were that doing so would shake Ron's confidence irreparably, and so instead Hermione found herself looking to the side and reaching for the packet again, tearing it open and blinking quickly. (If she'd been mortified before, somehow this seemed several times that.)

"So I suppose we should..." her voice trailed off helplessly, squirming to find a more comfortable position, feeling the rush of air by her thigh, cool enough to bring a shiver to her lips. "Um. Hold on, I'll..."

Glancing down again, Hermione's lips quirked in a nervous smile she couldn't suppress, before she slid slightly down on the sheets and started rolling the condom down. "Merlin, if I do something wrong, let me know," she breathed, shoulders tense.

"No, I can--" Ron started, but she was already rolling the dodgy condom thingy on-- which felt bloody weird by the way-- and since she'd already worked it out, he figured this was probably better than him lying there trying to read the instructions on the packet in the middle of all this. It was difficult to know whether or not to feel relieved or embarrassed in that one moment over the fact that she'd gone and done it and over whatever noises he'd likely just been making a minute ago. He frowned, knit brow causing his forehead to wrinkle.

But now it was actually out of the packet and on and they were both lying there naked, so Ron supposed it was time to get on with it. He swallowed nervously, then shifted on the bed to position himself on top of her. Tentatively, he put one leg on each side of her hips before he realized that wasn't the way it was supposed to work. He cursed to himself and shifted again to what he was pretty sure was right.

"Yeah, alright," he answered, looking at a spot on Hermione's ear instead of making eye contact at first, "And you'll let me know too?"

Nodding nervously, Hermione took a deep breath, one that shook as it passed through her lips. Of course, she'd thought about sex on multiple occasions before— it was all part and parcel of being someone who prepared herself as carefully as Hermione usually did— but she hadn't gone very far, comparatively, in trying to understand the mechanics of it. There was only so much that words could make clear, after all, and resorting to pictures, diagrams, or worse yet, videos, just seemed a bit much. Now she wondered if that was a mistake, suddenly feeling cold and nervous as Ron's gaze wandered. She reached out with a careful hand that slid down the side of his body, lingering by his hip, and nodded.

"Of course," she replied, managing a slight smile. "You know how I am. I don't think we'll have a problem there."

Small joke aside, she leaned up to kiss him again, slow and soft, with every intention of offering reassurance. Trying to coax him down and closer as well as she could, Hermione pulled one leg up until her thigh brushed against his hip, and ran a free hand down her own side to help find the proper mood again. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she broke briefly for air, then kissed again, a soft moan quiet in the back of her throat as she reached for his hand, twining their fingers to guide it further down.

It seemed a bit easier than trying to explain with words.

"Yeah. Right," Ron said with a nervous chuckle. Of course Hermione'd tell him if he was doing something wrong. She'd likely tell him about in great detail, then pull out diagrams to show him just how he could improve for next time. Not that Ron had any idea where she'd pull diagrams from just now, but he still hadn't ruled it out entirely. Maybe from behind the pillows or something. Not that he'd want Hermione to be any other way, though.

She grasped his hand and guided it and he tried not to look too embarrassed as he felt her. He was supposed to be looking for the opening, right? Easy. Just like a quaffle through a Quidditch hoop. Except, he knew how all that worked, and despite the similarities on the surface, this was nothing like that at all.

Ron bit his bottom lip nervously, hoping for some sign of approval that he was doing something right or guidance or something.

Hermione watched Ron with a mixture of tension and fondness alike. It was impossible not to feel nervous, or perhaps even a bit scared, as Ron explored below— what if he didn't care for something like that? But it was a little late now to abandon the idea, Hermione knowing that if she suggested for the two of them to stop, that Ron would take the idea personally. Pressing her lips together, she shook her head minutely, once again grasping his hand and, with her index finger lightly resting on top of his, took further control.

"First, we have... here," Hermione explained in almost a whisper, glancing up for a second while she glided his finger over the slight nub, her breath hitching as soon as he grazed over her. "That's— if you're going for making me feel... that's the place. Just— in circles. So, when I— you know, alone." She slipped her own fingers under his to demonstrate, biting down hard on her lower lip and not quite managing to suppress the soft moan, the embarrassment she felt at pleasuring herself in front of him. Once she was sure that he'd gotten the point, she took his hand again, gaze shifting up to some indistinct point on the ceiling.

"And then we have, lower... here," she stammered, making sure that his fingers passed over her entrance, trying not to feel too shameful about how prepared she already was. Easily, she slipped her own finger inside with a tense exhale. "That's where, erm. Well."

Hoping for once that she wouldn't have to explain word for word, she simply curved her free arm around Ron's neck again, waiting for him to acknowledge that anything had registered at all.

Ron was doing his best to take all of this in, every feel underneath his fingers, every sound Hermione made as he touched her and as she touched herself. Despite it all, though, one of his first thoughts was how much more complicated girls were than blokes. Yes, he'd heard a few things about sex from his brothers over the years, but he didn't think he'd ever really known that there'd be two bits to girl bits, more than just the part he was supposed to fit into.

Just this once, he wished he'd had some sort of diagram.

Still, he got the idea when she guided his hand and demonstrated, enough that it didn't matter whether or not she was completing sentences. Touching that one spot was enough to make Hermione make a little noise that Ron realized he sort of liked, whether or not she was embarrassed by it. At least, it meant something was going right and that he wasn't mucking this whole thing up. He tried not to think about the fact that Hermione'd said she did this on her own; it was becoming difficult enough to try and keep himself contained, from going off before they'd actually done anything. Thinking about all that was just unnecessary fodder for something neither of them really wanted to happen.

"It's alright," Ron said, then leaned in to kiss her again, while one hand moved down to touch her where she'd shown him, two fingers running tentatively and gently over the spot, hoping to get Hermione to make that one little noise again.

Not entirely sure who he was trying to reassure, but deciding ultimately that both of them probably needed it, Hermione allowed herself a small sigh before she leaned further into the kiss, eyes sliding to a close as her free hand raked through his hair. As his fingers began to move with more surety, Hermione found herself suddenly breaking away with a gasp, eyes fluttering to a close as her back arched, hair splayed over her pillow. She moaned lightly, her voice almost wavering as her hips rocked to press more insistently against his hand, breath hitching. While she knew that he wouldn't be the type to be selfish in this, it was still unexpected to Hermione how willing he was to experiment, how quickly he learned— always the tone of surprise, she thought to herself, lips curving into a smile as she leaned up to kiss him again, the contact punctuated by quiet gasps of breath.

"Ron," she breathed, pressing kiss after kiss against his lips. "Ron. Ron, I think we should... ah—" Hermione gasped again, toes curling against the sheets as she shook her head, face flushed as her fingers brushed against his abdomen. It felt more than slightly selfish, letting him go on like this, her lips trembling as she kissed the corner of his mouth again, then peered down. Somehow, it was all a little nearer now, closer, no longer a distant notion thought of on quiet nights. Perhaps it was just the romantic waiting just under the surface, but she couldn't help thinking that there was nothing better than this, than learning together and about each other, a process that never seemed to cease. It wasn't perfect, nor was it smooth at all, but any mistakes or missteps were forgiven between the two of them, because—

—well, because they loved one another.

"Ron, please," she whispered, the tone sharp and insistent, pressing her cheek against the line of his jaw, feeling his rough shadow against her skin.

As glad as Ron was to see that he was doing things right, that he was the reason Hermione'd started wriggling underneath him, pressing herself into his fingers as he moved them, the longer this went on, the more he was convinced that he wanted to press on now. Even if the idea of it did make him more nervous than he'd admit. What if he got the next part wrong? The important bit? Not that he thought Hermione'd split up with him over it, but he really wanted this to go right.

"Okay. Okay, alright, I can— " Ron said, his own breath slightly ragged, voice both quiet and gruff, "...blimey."

He shifted the position of his hand slightly, feeling for the entrance she'd shown him before. After a moment of fumbling, he managed to find it, accidentally slipping two fingers inside. "Sorry, I didn't— " he mumbled, frowning for a moment as he bit his bottom lip again.

Ron ran one hand up Hermione's thigh, hitching it up slightly as he tried not to think too much about how warm and soft it was against his palm, how every bit of her was even more soft and amazing than he'd ever thought she could be. Instead, he used his other hand to slowly guide himself inside her, not able to hold back the low and pleased rumble in his throat as he did so.

God, you had to be really bloody coordinated for all of this, didn't you?

The first thing which registered was the pain. Hermione had wondered on more than one occasion whether or not her first time would hurt in the way that so many others had described that it might. One of the more commonly shared details was that if a girl felt too tense, that inevitably the experience would be made that much more difficult— and Hermione had absolutely no illusions about her own tendency to grow stressed or agitated over every little detail. But before she could even start to raise protest, she heard Ron's voice, turning to brush a kiss against his temple, breath hitching against his skin.

Exhaling deeply, Hermione did her best to relax as much of her body as she could— a rather difficult task, considering the position that she was in. She licked her lips, adjusting the angle of her hips, foot briefly brushing against his side as her hand reached up to curve around his shoulder.

"It's okay," she mouthed silently to herself, blinking rapidly and breathing deep. "This is okay, we'll be okay."

It felt... different than Ron expected, somehow. Not that he'd been anticipating anything, but it was all weird and warm and tight and really bloody good already all at the same time. His breath caught in his throat even now, though he hadn't moved yet, and he ducked his forehead against her neck for a moment.

"Do you... do you want me to stop?" Ron asked, voice rough and hushed and edging on urgent against her skin, "We can stop."

Not that Ron particularly wanted to stop— bloody hell, but that was the last thing he wanted just now— but he'd heard Hermione's breath hitch, that somewhat sharp intake of air just before she'd adjusted her hips a bit, and he wasn't entirely sure whether or not it'd been a good noise or a bad one. Maybe he'd done it wrong; it wasn't as if he actually had any actual experience with any of this. Though, if he'd bolloxed it up that much, surely Hermione would have said something. She always said something.

He pressed a kiss to her neck and then just below her ear, waiting to see what she'd say.

Almost starting to shake her head, it was the press of Ron's lips to her neck that stilled her lips, that sent a shiver down her spine. The edge that she could hear in his voice, that tried for calm but ended up sounding anything but, only seemed to encourage the fondness that she felt for him just then. It wasn't perfect— in fact, if anything, it was incredibly awkward— and yet the care that she could feel in every brush of his hands against her skin, in the hushed sound of his voice, overwhelmed Hermione to the point that she was fighting back tears which burned at the corners of her eyes.

"No," she murmured, trying to keep her voice from wavering. "No, don't stop."

Her hand ran down his back, along the line of his spine, where she felt his muscles moving under his skin, before Hermione stopped with a grin and grabbed him more firmly down below, a noiseless laugh on her breath. "Always wanted to do that," she confessed playfully.

Ron felt nothing short of relief in the fact that she wanted to press on, and that it seemed as though he was actually doing an okay job with all this. Every step of the way, he felt like there was something else for him to get wrong, some new way to ruin everything. But he managed a small, nervous smile as her hands moved over the skin of his back and downward.

" 'Mione, don't or— " Ron started, though a pleased noise escaped his lips as she grabbed him, eyes lidding shut, "Or I might—" He didn't know how long was normal for it to last, but he was already teetering near the edge, trying his best to think about something else, anything else— his Great-Aunt Muriel, Professor Snape, even— something that might put him off for a bit.

Needless to say, that was really bloody difficult, considering the fact that he was actually on top of Hermione at the moment. It was impossible to think about anything other than her skin, or her lips, or how warm she was under his hands... Merlin's beard, this was good.

But her reassurance gave him a bit more courage, and he kissed her again, once, before he rocked his hips back and forth, as he started to slowly move against her.

His kisses were growing clumsy, Hermione noticed, although the observation was one which made her smile into the kiss, something inherently pleasing about the fact. In truth, she knew that she probably wasn't actively doing all that much to please him— she wouldn't even have known where to start, really— but the idea that they could find something which felt good together, through a joint effort, made her feel closer to him than perhaps she ever had before. And suddenly, she found that she was having a difficult time keeping calm through the kiss as well, her breath shaky as it slipped through their lips, a moan muffled as she leaned up to deepen the kiss, hand lingering by his jaw.

The other hand remained on the small of his back, occasionally sliding lower, pressing against him in encouragement. Once the movement was steady— as much as Ron could manage at the moment— Hermione began to feel calmer, having some idea of what to expect. And, as soon as her body began to relax, the whole process was made easier still, and even enjoyable.

As soon as they lips parted, Hermione's words passed through her teeth in an urgent hiss. "Ron," she breathed. "Yes." Her chest rose and fell with the movement, with her breath, which hastened as she felt his muscles tensing, the hand by his jaw sliding down over his shoulder, then his arm. She'd always felt safe in his arms— apparently this was no exception.

Maybe Hermione didn't think she was doing much when it came to pleasing him, but even just her hand on his back and on his backside was enough to drive him mad. Somewhere on the edge of this thoughts, Ron worried that he wasn't doing much for Hermione either, that the way his kisses weren't quite landing on their marks anymore was putting her off a bit. But that was before she breathed his name and touched his arm again and it was all he could do not to finish right then because of it.

Ron buried his face in his hair for a second as he moved— he'd always liked Hermione's hair, even when it was all mussed like it was right then— and tried to keep his pace steady, though it was more difficult than he thought it'd be. It had been easy to imagine all this, but the reality was a bit more complicated than he'd expected. Feelings and sounds and god, Hermione's breath near his ear made it better than just imagining it, loads better,

"Hermione," he managed, nearly breathless, "Hermione, I think I'm going to—"

Harry was ecstatic. Rapture had been creepy, terrifying, dark and dank and exactly as much deathly danger as Harry had grown accustomed to. But it was also amazing, the feeling of that power coursing through his veins. It wasn't the same as magic; both he and Billy agreed on that. But it was close enough. It was close enough and dangerous enough that Harry ran all the way back home, eager to share his adventures with his two best friends.

He was breathless by the time he got there, barreling through the front door with surprisingly little noise. This wasn't like Grimmauld Place or the Burrow or even Hogwarts. The door hinges had no reason to squeak and his pace had slowed enough by the time he entered that his footsteps didn't fall too heavily, didn't echo off stone walls that weren't there. Glancing quickly over the common room -- and seeing no one there -- Harry strode over to the shut door of Hermione's bedroom, thinking of nothing but finding his friends.

He should have been thinking of more. Like why the door had been shut in the first place and how it was always polite to knock.

But instead he shouldered open the door, the sound of his own breathing and blood rushing the only thing he could hear, and started talking. "Guys, are you here? I've-- Oh."

He froze. Harry froze for a span of five seconds, his mind utterly blank and his body refusing to move. And then, miraculously, he regained control of himself and ran out of the room, shutting the door with a slam behind him.

Perhaps under any other circumstances, Hermione would have noticed the sound of steps as they trailed into the hut. But all other sounds seemed to drown out under her own breath, which grew ragged, uneven, and strained as Ron spoke, his voice close to the shell of her ear. One hand grabbed his shoulder more solidly, the other lingering by his back, and Hermione did her best to rock her hips in time with his, feeling more of the tension slip away as the two seemed to find a rhythm. (Truth be told, it wasn't that enjoyable for her yet, but Hermione knew that certain things required practice, and certainly had expected that this would be one of them.)

But the sound of the door opening immediately snapped her back to attention, and Harry's voice following sent Hermione straight into a state of alarm. "Oh my god, Harry—"

Desperately, she reached out for sheets, for fabric, for anything that could cover the both of them as she slid away and sat, eyes meeting Harry's for a couple of seconds with unspoken apologies. And panic.

Unsurprisingly, Harry didn't linger long, and while normally Hermione might have chased after him, a part of her couldn't help but feel that it wouldn't be exactly helpful right then. So she groaned, face dropping in her hands as her heart still pounded in her ears. "Oh my god."

Unsurprisingly, Ron hadn't heard the door open either, or the sound of footsteps as they approached, more focused on pretty much everything else: trying to keep his rhythm steady, trying to hold off for another moment or two... at least until Hermione tensed up and called out Harry's name instead of his.

Ron's eyes snapped open and he frowned, about to say something, until he realized Hermione was looking past him and towards the door. She hadn't gotten mixed up or something in the middle of it all, Harry had actually walked in.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, pulling the bedsheet up to his neck, even though Harry had already gone and slammed the door behind him. His heart had been racing before, but in a good way, then. Now, it was only because of sheer and complete bloody panic. Eyes wide, he stared at the closed door for a long, silent moment before he said anything else.

"Do you— do you think he saw?"

Her cheeks were red, flushed, too warm to be comfortable and her thoughts so dizzying that she thought that she might be sick. The last thing she wanted to believe was that she'd caused this, caused a rift between the three of them which had the potential of growing greater, not because any of them cared for each other any less, but simply because there were certain lines that couldn't be crossed by the three of them at once. Burying her face in her hands again, Hermione heaved a breath, tempted to groan in frustration, but if she didn't know what to do in this situation, chances were Ron didn't either.

"He just stood there for five seconds and then ran in the other direction as fast as he could," Hermione clarified, quickly sliding off the bed and looking for her clothes, strewn as they probably were on the ground. "Of course he saw. I can't believe this, I just— I really can't."

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oh, kiss me with your eyelashes tonight

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