Hermione's First

"I - I might scream..." Hermione's voice was jagged, strained with a combination of nervousness and pleasure. Most of this was new for her too and she wasn't sure what to feel, or even, for once, what to say.

"Shhh," Ron responded, his eyes closed tightly. His lips were thin in concentration, and Hermione couldn't tell if he was urging her to keep quiet or trying to be reassuring. His ambiguity had the effect of causing the pleasurable parts to be overshadowed by nerves and she started to tense up. Hermione sighed; she recognized the signs. There would be no screaming this time.

Sensing the change, Ron tried to adjust his approach and shifted onto his side. The increase in leverage allowed him to relax his right arm. His fingers, which were otherwise occupied, slowed down, changed angles, and pressed on.

Pressed on, Hermione thought. Funny; even during sex I manage to be witty. She tried not to smile though, not wanting Ron to think she was laughing at him.

Well, it's not sex, exactly, she continued to herself. I don't think we're quite ready for that. For sure I'm not, and Ron's never pressed me - she cringed again - on the subject.

"Hermione?" She looked up into Ron's eyes. He sounded confused, as if he thought he might have done something wrong, but wasn't sure what it could be. "Are you okay?"

And somewhat amused, too. She let her face relax into a quiet grin and nodded. How quintessentially Ron, she thought. Amused and confused. Hermione replayed that last thought in her head. Oh, no, now I'm rhyming! She groaned, half out loud.

Ron's hands came out from under the bedclothes. He took a deep breath and tried to smile. Hermione hoped he didn't think of it as some sort of criticism. He still wasn't very sure of himself when it came to these things and for that matter, neither was she. But she hadn't meant to groan; it had sort of slipped out, and it probably wasn't the type of noise he was expecting, given their current endeavor.

Then Ron's eyes seemed to relax and he looked back down at her. "Hermione, you are thinking way too much." He grinned and gently rubbed his nose against her cheek, just below her ear. He'd recently discovered this spot; it tended to make her sigh in a way that caused his stomach to flip-flop and his heartbeat to race. "It's a good thing we're not in the library," he teased. "You'd be reaching for some book to look up more of those erroneous zones."

Hermione couldn't help but giggle at this. "Erogenous zones," she corrected. "As in Eros, the Greek god of love."

"As in right here, beneath your ear," Ron retorted, leaning down and kissing that exact spot.

Hermione sighed.

******

A short time later, Hermione lay on her back in Ron's bed. Ron had drifted off just a few minutes before, but Hermione didn't think he'd sleep for long. She had seen him once or twice when he was really out, and she and Harry liked to joke that Ron could have slept through the entire war if he were tired enough.

Tonight though, he had fallen asleep curled against her, and it was a position neither of them was used to. As for Hermione, she hadn't been able to fall asleep at all. She maneuvered carefully onto her back, letting his arm drape across her stomach. She was guessing that he would wake up in half an hour or so, but at the moment she was staring at the high, vaulted ceiling and pondering her lack of...completion.

It's never happened, even the times I've tried on my own, she thought. And it's taken ages to get to the point where Ron and I are comfortable enough to be even nearly naked together. I kept my shirt on this time, even though I lost my pants, and Ron's still wearing his pajama bottoms. I think those will stay on a while longer. He wants to make sure I'm satisfied first. But what if it never - if I never... A new thought struck her: If he's been talking to one of his brothers about this, especially George or Fred, I'll die of embarrassment.

She thought of a statistic she read once that nearly ten percent of women are incapable of ever achieving orgasm. And it wasn't as if Hermione didn't enjoy herself, but when it came time to let go and just let it happen her brain tended to go into overdrive. Good to know for the next time we're saving the world, she thought wryly. It will be the perfect opportunity for me to overanalyze my way out of our latest predicament.

They had only done this a few times, but Hermione thought Ron might feel bad that not once has she finished. Came. Whatever. She didn't think of herself as a prude but secretly wondered if she might be. Or maybe, she thought, it's that I'm really not a prude at all, but I just haven't gotten up the nerve to do something about it.

In any case, Hermione didn't know how to assure Ron that he wasn't doing anything wrong, and she certainly didn't want him to give up on her. For all that they were still new at this, by no means was Ron doing a poor job, and each time it got a little bit better. The first time had been a bit more painful than she had expected it to be. It wasn't that it had hurt, not really, but every so often Ron had pushed a little too hard and she'd had to try not to wince. It was like when the dentist numbed your mouth; you could still feel the pressure of them rummaging around in there. She knew that the first time you had sex it was supposed to hurt, but no one had told her that even other, simpler things took some getting used to. Embarrassed, she had tried guiding him. "Gently," she'd whispered. Eventually, though, she had stilled his hand. "Just kiss me for a while; we've got time." And he had.

On her back in Ron's bed, Hermione closed her eyes and lost herself in the memory.

_________________

As arousal slowly sweeps back into her, she lets him move his hands down past her top and into her pajamas once more. "Gently," Hermione whispers again. One finger rubs, slides, slips inside. Not pushing, not pounding. Gentle and smooth. That's better, she thinks. Slowly, Ron starts moving his fingers upwards. A small gasp escapes Hermione's flush lips as she tilts her head back in surprise. "I think you've found it," she says.

Ron smiles and Hermione notices the color on his neck and ears has begun to fade.

"I was wondering about that," is his soft, almost reverent reply.

_________________

Thinking about the first few times Ron had put his hand in her pants - he'd been blushing furiously the whole time but trying to seem confident - Hermione's thoughts drifted to some of their other, tamer 'firsts.'

The first time he admitted he had feelings for her, when he'd nearly kissed her in the Great Hall before his first Quidditch match seventh year. He'd lost his nerve at the last second and ended up barely pecking her cheek before running out of the room. And then their first real kiss in the kitchens over chocolate that Christmas...

Hermione smiled again as she recalled Harry hiding his laughter in his cup and then looking up at them with whipped cream on his lip and the tip of his nose.

And the first time she'd fallen asleep in his arms the night Percy -

She stopped herself there. Happy thoughts, Hermione. Don't think about that now.

Next to her, Ron shifted a bit and she turned to look at his face in the soft light coming from the window. It was too dark to make out all his freckles, but she saw them there just the same. He was a study in contrasts: dark freckles on pale skin, fierce and gentle, passionate and nervous, and all gangly limbs that came together with a quiet and surprising grace. She supposed the adults would say he was finally growing into himself.

Hermione moved to pull her shirt down again; the blasted thing kept riding up her torso and it was rather uncomfortable. She moved Ron's arm so she could reach under her back and grab the shirt she'd been wearing when she'd come into Ron's room hours ago. The movement disturbed him, and he stirred and started to stretch. When he opened his eyes, she turned to him.

For a few seconds they lay face to face, wrapped in each other's presence. Hermione tried to read what she saw there. It was different somehow, even from just a few hours earlier. There was something more in his face, in his eyes. The trepidation she'd grown used to seeing was starting to fade. In its place there was growing passion and wonder, and something else Hermione thought she might recognize but didn't want to pin down because she was pretty sure it had something to do with forever.

Unnerved, she broke the silence.

"Morning, Ron," she whispered, and he grinned.

"Hi." He propped himself up on his left arm and looked down at her again. "What're you doing here?"

"I just thought I'd see if you fancied some dessert." Indeed, that had been the reason she had come up to his room hours before, but they never actually made it downstairs for Mrs. Weasley's famous fudge.

"Now that you mention it, a bit of homemade treacle does sound really good."

Hermione sat up and looked at him with familiar exasperation. "Ronald Weasley, it is two o'clock in the morning. I was joking and you know it."

Ron looked as if he were trying to appear shocked. "But Hermione," he whined, "I really am hungry."

"But Ron," she mimicked, smirking. "If you'd like to go downstairs, I suppose I can't stop you. It's just..." Her face fell as she considered pouting, but quickly decided against it. Honestly! She was Hermione Granger. She didn't need to pout to get Ron's attention. She would just -

"Sheesh, Hermione, don't look like that. I'll stay, all right?" Ron looked so concerned Hermione had to laugh.

"I was going to ask you to bring some up for me," she recovered, hoping she didn't sound like she was making up an excuse on the spot. Which, of course, she was. "But as long as you're staying..." She drifted off, hoping he'd understand.

He stared at her, waiting for her to continue. Then, quietly, "Oh." She watched his ears turn red as he realized what she was talking about. The blush crept down his neck as he whispered, "Then how come you're still wearing your shirt?"

He leaned in and kissed her, and Hermione sighed as the sensations started to build in the pit of her stomach. "I might scream," she murmured against his mouth. And Ron replied, "You might."