oh, kiss me with your eyelashes tonight

[cleverness]

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?"

Comments

[deluminate]

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.

[cleverness]

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.

[deluminate]

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.

[cleverness]

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.

[deluminate]

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—"

[seek-to-end.livejournal.com]

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.

[cleverness]

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."

[deluminate]

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?"

[cleverness]

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."