Close To Truth

Ron set Hermione gingerly at the head of their bed and then walked over to the bookshelf they’d set the Black vault ledgers on. He pulled out the two they were going painstakingly through, grunting slightly at the weight. Then he sat down at the foot of the bed and pushed one of the ledgers towards Hermione. “I guess we should get started again,” he muttered, clearly not thrilled at the idea.

“In a minute,” Hermione said. “First I want to show you something.”

“Er…okay,” Ron said warily, turning to look at Hermione.

Hermione smiled nervously and took out her wand. Closing her eyes to concentrate, she pointed the tip of her wand to her own chest and began chanting a series of syllables. It took a good thirty seconds to complete the Charm; when she finished, she opened her eyes. Ron was staring at her. “Did…uh, whatever it was work?” he asked.

“I think so,” Hermione said vaguely, still concentrating, and stood up.

Ron yelped in alarm, but Hermione ignored it, all her focus on what she was doing. “What- you’re walking!” Ron gasped. “But— but how—”

“Not walking, Ron,” Hermione corrected quietly. “Levitating. I’ve figured out how to cast a special Levitation Charm on myself. Healers use it to help rehabilitating patients.” She carefully floated herself down toward the end of the bed where Ron was sitting, moving her legs so it looked like she was walking—if you ignored the way her feet didn’t touch the ground.

“Merlin,” Ron whispered, looking up at Hermione, “that’s bloody amazing.”

“It’s—very difficult,” Hermione said, her voice tight with strain. “I can’t…hold it…very long—!”

Hermione collapsed. Ron caught her instinctively, so she ended up with his arms squeezing her waist and her hair in his face. “Hermione !” he said, trying to talk around her hair. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Hermione answered, lifting her head so she could meet Ron’s eye. “It’s a great strain on my magic to do that Charm, but I’m confident that with practice I can make it last longer—maybe even spare you from having to carry me around all the time.”

Ron flushed, looked down and mumbled something that sounded like “Don’t mind…”

Hermione’s eyes searched Ron’s face, and then her hands came up to grasp his head so she could pull him in for a kiss. Her tongue traced along his lips and then inside his mouth as he squeaked in surprise. One of her hands circled behind his head, trying to draw him closer…

“Hermione—wait—” Ron stammered, wrenching Hermione away from him. He stared in confusion at her for a heartbeat before transferring her from his lap to the bed. He stood up (trying to adjust his clothes surreptitiously to hide his erection) and circled around the bed, snatching up the forgotten ledger. “Er, we really need to get some more of this done,” he babbled quickly. “Harry’s right, and the longer it takes the more likely it is that…”

“Ron,” Hermione whispered, “Why won’t you sleep with me?”

Ron’s jaw worked soundlessly for a moment. Hermione was staring at him with pleading, tear-filled eyes. He hadn’t been doing it consciously, not really. But he could hardly deny it. “I…I didn’t want to…” he trailed off and hung his head. “You were so scared before,” he said, referring to the horrible night when Hermione had reacted with misplaced fear to Ron’s anger. “I didn’t want to see you look at me like that again, ever. I thought if I…”

“Ron,” Hermione interrupted fiercely, “Come over here right now!”

Ron couldn’t disobey—he recognized the tone of voice. He walked back and stood in front of Hermione apprehensively.

“Ron,” Hermione said, her voice surprisingly soft, looking up into his eyes, “I’m sorry for how I reacted that night. It really had nothing to do with you, and it was unfair of me, even if I couldn’t help myself. I love you, and I know you’d never hurt me. I’m fully capable of telling you when I want you to stop, and I trust that you will. Right now, I’m begging you to make love to me.” She bit her lip in what was to Ron’s mind a very sexy way. “It’s been almost two weeks, and I’m rather desperately turned on right now and I haven’t had a moment alone to take care of myself—” she blushed bright red— “and it’s just not the same anyway, so if you won’t make love to me right this second I’m either going to scream in frustration or hex you immobile and have my way with you anyway!”

Ron swallowed and grinned weakly. “Well, er…When you put it like that…”

Hermione smirked and reached up to unbutton Ron’s trousers, never breaking eye contact. Ron removed his shirt, so when Hermione slid his trousers and boxers down he was completely nude. Hermione actually licked her lips when her gaze dropped down to Ron’s exposed cock, and Ron was forced to bite his lip at the sight. Hermione leaned forward enough so she could kiss the tip of his cock, and then trailed her tongue from the base all the way to the glans. Ron groaned, and then bit back a frustrated exclamation when Hermione sat back again. But he could hardly complain when Hermione’s hands went under her skirt and came back out pulling her knickers down her legs. She tossed them aside and took Ron’s hands, pulling him down atop her as she lay down. “Come on, then,” she insisted.

“Wh—just like that?” Ron exclaimed in surprise as Hermione settled him between her legs. His cock was pressed against her sex through the thin fabric of her skirt. “You don’t need, um…”

Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron’s neck. “I don’t need anything but the feeling of your body above me and inside me,” she murmured huskily, making Ron shiver. “Just don’t forget the Charm.”

Ron got up to retrieve his wand and cast the Anti-pregnancy Charm on himself. Then he moved back between Hermione’s legs, which were flat on the bed. Grinning at Hermione’s embarrassed look, Ron helped raise them up so her heels were even with her bum. He turned up her skirt and his heart began pounding harder at the sight of her cunt, open and waiting. “Please, Ron,” Hermione pleaded, reaching her hands for him.

Ron crept over Hermione again until his head was even with hers, and dropped down to kiss her softly. One of her arms circled his neck, and the other slipped between them to grasp his erection and guide it into her. Ron shifted his hips to push slowly forward, and Hermione’s arm tightened around his neck; she gasped into his mouth, and a few tear sprung from her eyes. “Please don’t stop,” she begged when Ron froze at the sight of her tears. “It feels so good…!”

Ron began to thrust slowly, and was shocked at how ready Hermione seemed. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she as desperate, apparently. Her arms, too weak really to pull Ron to her, were nonetheless pulling at him, urging him to go on. “Yes,” she sighed, shifting her hips slightly so the angle would drive Ron deeper. “I w-want more, Ron…I know I can’t really—” she whimpered as Ron thrust inside her again—“participate fully…”

“You’re participating fine,” Ron gasped.

“Then go f-faster,” Hermione groaned. “Please, I can take it, I want you so much…”

Despite Hermione’s assurances Ron built up the speed of his thrusts gradually; Hermione writhed under him, almost sobbing with the need for release, and finally, with Ron’s hands clutching her shoulders, his body rocking against her, she cried out hoarsely and went limp, almost too tired to acknowledge Ron as he drove himself over as well.

Then his lips were on hers, his panting breath washing over her, rousing her, and she managed to lift a trembling hand to caress his cheek. “Are you all right?” he asked, fear in his voice, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips and a smile sated with more than lust fulfilled. He kissed her again, sweetly, held her—but not too tightly—as they drifted off to sleep.

*****

Angelina and Fred trudged up the stairs. It had been a very long day in the shop for Fred, and an equally long day at Quidditch practice for Angelina; by unspoken agreement they were headed up to Angelina’s room, where they intended to collapse into bed and be dead to the world, hopefully forever.

As they reached the second floor and headed down the hall, Fred noticed that the door to the conference room was closed and magically hidden, so it looked like there was no room at all. He hesitated a second, and then stopped. “Hey Angie, wait up, will you?” he asked, and knocked roughly where the door should be.

Angelina leaned up against the opposite wall and quirked an eyebrow at Fred, who shrugged; “Just want to ask a question,” he started, but he cut off when the door appeared suddenly and opened.

Ginny poked her head out the door; her eyes were slightly bloodshot, but she acted completely normally. “Hey Fred, hey Angelina,” she said mildly. “Do you need something?”

“Er, yeah,” Fred said, remembering that Harry and Ginny had threatened to Obliviate him if he mentioned the locket he had shown them to anyone…and Angelina didn’t know about it. “I was just wondering…you know that, er, thing I showed you and Harry a couple months ago? In the room with the Family Tree,” he added when Ginny looked blank.

“Oh—that,” Ginny said, her eyes narrowing. “What about it?”

“Was that…Well, did it have anything to do with what happened at Ernie’s?” Fred asked.

Harry appeared behind Ginny in the doorway. “Why would you think that?” he asked suspiciously.

“I dunno…but it seemed like it was important, and then at Ernie’s we were supposed to…” Fred trailed off when he saw that both Harry and Ginny were glaring at him warningly.

“Remember what I said about secrets?” Harry demanded. Fred nodded. “Good. And no, it didn’t have anything to do with why we were over at Ernie’s. The only thing the two have in common is that they’re both part of the war.”

“Oh. Good,” Fred said. “I just didn’t want to think that I’d led Ernie to that.”

Ginny’s expression softened a little. “It wasn’t you Fred, we promise,” she said.

“Right,” Fred replied. “Okay, thanks.”

Harry and Ginny peered at Fred a second longer than he was comfortable with before nodding to him and Angelina and shutting the door again. “What was that about?” Angelina asked as they resumed their walk upstairs.

“Can’t tell you,” Fred said. “Sworn to secrecy and all that junk. Ginny’ll hex my ears onto my arse if I say.”

Angelina snorted at the mental image Fred created. “Lovely description,” she said, stopping outside her door and opening it.

“You think I’m joking,” Fred declared as he walked into the room and collapsed face-first onto the bed. “You mark my words, if Ginny can’t do it literally yet, it won’t be long until she can.”

Angelina only answered with a snigger. Fred listened drowsily as she moved around the room, divesting herself of her belongings. He’d almost drifted off when a hand came from out of nowhere and slipped between his legs to grab his crotch. He yelped and tried to push up on his hands, but Angelina’s weight settled on top of him and she shifted her arm to wrap around him and grasp his suddenly-awake cock from behind. “No need for you to move, Fred; I know you’re all in,” she said in his ear as she skillfully undid the button on his trousers. “Honestly, so am I. But we don’t always have to be as athletic as usual.”

Her hand wormed its way inside Fred’s boxers and around his cock, stroking him lightly with her soft fingertips. He sighed into his pillow and twitched in Angelina’s grip, making her grin. “Get out of those trousers,” she murmured, and Fred obliged, pushing his trousers and underwear down while being careful not to throw Angelina off. Angelina turned him onto his side and pressed up against him from behind, continuing to stroke up and down his cock.

After a minute Fred’s arousal had built and he began thrusting tiredly into Angelina’s hand. She chuckled lightly and pulled her hand back, making Fred groan in protest. “Patience,” she laughed, and Fred heard her mutter “Dermilubricus.” What the hell? he thought, recognizing the Lubrication Charm. They’d used it before, many times, but he wasn’t sure what—

Angelina’s hand slid back around his cock, but now it was covered with a smooth, slippery feeling. Her fingertips glided over Fred’s flesh like the hot skin inside her cunt, and he realized she’d cast the Lubrication Charm on her hand. “Bloody hell,” he croaked.

“Give me your hand,” Angelina said throatily, and Fred stretched his arm out behind him. Another quick murmur from Angelina and Fred felt the strange sensation of the Lubrication Charm coating his own hand; Angelina then used her free hand to guide it to her quim. His fingers found and slid over her labia, brushing a long stroke against her clit, and she whined, burying her face in Fred’s neck. He did it again and again until Angelina’s hand squeezed the base of his cock so hard he almost passed out. “Inside, you bloody teasing prat!” she demanded, and with his manhood literally in Angelina’s hands Fred hastened to obey.

Angelina threw her long, muscular leg over Fred and pulled herself up against him tightly, pressing his fingers deeper inside her, harder against her clit. She sped her own hand’s pace along Fred’s straining cock, and very quickly they were both gasping, almost to the edge. Angelina’s hand squeezed hard and her thumb pushed firmly over Fred’s glans just as she raised her head and sank her teeth into Fred’s neck. Fred jerked and came with a startled moan, and squeezed Angelina’s cunt so tightly she came as well, rocking her hips sharply against his hand.

They both lay still for a moment, catching their breath. “You better not be a werewolf, Ang,” Fred said weakly. “I’m not up to running at the full moon, I don’t have the constitution.”

“Guess you’ll find out, won’t you?” Angelina said with a grin. “Although you know, from what I’ve heard werewolves can shag for hours at a time—I wouldn’t mind having that kind of stamina. Plus, um…They mate for life, you know?” There was no answer. “Fred?”

A loud snore drifted up. “Fred, I know you’re faking.” More snoring. “Fred!” Nothing. Angelina extracted her still-lubricated hand from Fred’s crotch and slid a finger between his arse-cheeks.

Fred let out a muffled scream.