The Wedding (Previously posted under author Luisa)

The next few days at the Burrow were the busiest Hermione, Harry, or any of the Weasleys had ever seen. Harry’s birthday came and went, complete with a delicious dinner of Harry’s favorites prepared by the three women of the household: Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione. Fleur even showed up with a French vegetable stew called ratatouille, which Harry did not like the look of but ended up enjoying immensely. Mr. Weasley came home from the Ministry early with a few bottles that Harry recognized at once: Madam Rosmerta’s oak-matured meade, something that none of the younger guests had tried before. After a few glasses, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley turned up the radio and danced along to Celestina Warbuck while Fred and George looked highly embarrassed. Harry, a little pink in the face, just smiled and hoped to himself that one day he and Ginny could take the place of Molly and Arthur, who looked so happy and in love despite the current times. Eventually, Bill and Fleur joined in the dance party, and to everyone’s surprise, Ron and Hermione.

Dancing with Ron was like something from a dream, Hermione decided. Not because he was terribly good at it, seeing as how her toes had been trod on multiple times in a single three-minute song, but because it felt so natural and right. He spun her around, knocking over several little trinkets from the mantle. He grinned, sheepishly, looking around and expecting his mother to reprimand him, but instead she just giggled, hiccupped, and waved her wand rather carelessly. The little pieces repaired themselves, but Hermione noticed that a few of them had switched heads. She laughed, feeling happier than she had in a long, long time.

Eventually, Celestina’s program ended and the three dancing couples resumed their seats at the table. Mrs. Weasley, amid more hiccups, magicked in a beautiful birthday cake, baked in the shape of the number seventeen. Harry blushed sheepishly while the family sang Happy Birthday. They ate their cake and one by one, the party guests vanished upstairs. Finally, just Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George were left downstairs. Fred and George looked around to make sure they were quite alone before turning to Harry and presenting him a large box, flamboyantly wrapped.

“Right. It might not be the very best thing to let our dear mother see this, but if she does, do make sure to mention that you definitely-“

“Absolutely-“

“Positively-“

“One-hundred percent did not get it from us. Got that?” Finished George, landing the box in Harry’s lap. “That goes for you lot, too,” he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. “Now, Harry, do not ask us how we know, but we do. We know that you three will be leaving soon, probably right after the wedding. What we do not know is what you will be doing, although we can hazard a guess and say that it is probably something of great importance. Therefore, we have taken it upon ourselves to present you three with these.” With that, Harry opened the present and peered inside. He could feel Ron and Hermione peering over his shoulder, and they all three simultaneously gasped.

Blinking back up at them were…themselves. Harry reached in and pulled out an exact replica of himself, gawking as it unfolded and fell on the floor. He was reminded of the shadows of Voldemort’s victims falling from his wand three years ago…but this was different. As the fake Harry stood up and shook himself out, the real Harry noticed that he looked incredibly solid. Ron and Hermione were unfolding their own versions of themselves as well, looking incredulous. Finally, Fred opened his mouth to explain: “We figured they would come in handy. They walk around, do some basic motions-“

“Like waving and nodding, that sort of thing.”

“Right. Anyway, the whole point of them is to be a distraction. A diversion. Make someone you’re where you’re really not, you get what I mean?”

The three looked absolutely thunderstruck. Hermione managed to gather her thoughts and her power of speech first. “Wow. Absolutely stunning. Fred…George…Thank you. This is incredible.”

The twins simply bowed their thanks. “Hermione, Hermione, you flatter us. However, as much as we would like to stay and finish celebrating your birthday, Harry, we must be off. ‘Spect we’ll see you again at the wedding day after tomorrow, right? Now, you four take care of each other,” they advised, turning on the spot and disappearing before the others could say a word.

The foursome turned once more to stare at the fake Ron, Harry, and Hermione. They admired the handiwork of the twins for a little while longer before folding them up and placing them carefully back in the box. More subdued now than during the party, no one seemed to know what to say. The twin’s present, although useful as it would more than likely prove to be, reminded them all of the dangerous task that awaited them. Ginny was visibly worried, and understandably—she was the only one present that was not joining Harry on his mission. Despite this, however, she put on a brave smile and stood up, feigning a yawn. “Well, it’s been a splendid party, Harry, it sure made me exhausted. I think I’ll be off to bed now…Goodnight, Ron, Hermione. Harry, want to come say goodnight?” she asked pointedly, before turning to head up the stares. Harry cleared his throat and nodded, more to himself than anyone else, and stood up with a hasty “’Night, you two,” before hurrying up the stairs after Ginny.

It took Hermione a moment to realize that she was alone with Ron, finally, for the first time since they had been sent for fertilizer by Mrs. Weasley. The free moments in between then and now had been filled with thoughts that would make both of them blush had anybody else been able to be privy to them, but made both of them squirm in their seats with arousal. Turning to Ron, however, Hermione was not surprised to find that he was staring up the stairs after Harry and Ginny, his eyes narrowed.

“Oh, Ron, get over it!” she said playfully, giving him a slight punch on the arm. “Let them have their moments. I know it will be hard on her when we’re gone, but trust me, it would be worse for both of them if they didn’t have a chance to be together right now. I mean…what if it were….were you and I?” She looked up sheepishly at Ron, who quickly turned from the stairs to her.

“Oh…’Mione…I know. She’s just my sister…and Harry’s my best mate…but you’re right. I’d rather it be him than anyone else. I just wish they’d be a little bit more honest, you know?”

Hermione shook her head. “Honest about what?”

Ron stared at her pointedly. “’Mione. Harry might not tell me that they do, but I know that they do.” Hermione’s expression remained blank, and Ron sighed, a slight laugh hidden underneath. She’s still so naieve, even after what we’ve done together…well, you’re not one to talk, Ronald, you’ve only been as far as she has, he reminded himself. Shaking the thought from his head, he decided to use Hermione’s innocence to his advantage. “You know, Hermione,” he breathed, scooting closer and pulling her closer. “They do…it. Make love. Have sex.” Hermione’s breath quickened, and Ron watched her breasts heave up and down under her shirt. He decided to push her a little further—“You know, don’t you Hermione? They bump their naughty bits. They shag. They,” and here his voice lowered to a whisper, “fuck.”

“Oh, Merlin, Ron,” Hermione breathed, and Ron noticed that she was undulating her hips as much as she could, sitting on a squishy couch. “I…I think I know what you’re talking about now,” she said weakly. She shuddered for an unseen reason, but Ron could tell that she had enjoyed hearing him say that tiny, four letter word. He felt adventurous, like he had when he had swallowed just a gulp of Harry’s Felix Felicitis potion the year before, like he could do nothing wrong. He decided to just listen to his instincts, and let the horny seventeen year old in his head be his guide, instead of trying so hard to push him away.

“Why, Hermione,” he said, sounding more like Fred and George than he ever had before. “Are you alright? You seem a bit red in the face. Are you warm?” Hermione whimpered as Ron slid one palm across her forehead, down her cheek, and onto the back of her neck under the guise of checking her temperature. “Hmmm, you don’t feel hot up here…I wonder about down here?” With this, he slid his hand down her chest and stomach to rest in between her legs. Hermione gasped as Ron applied just the tiniest amount of pressure, and Ron was pleased to see that she couldn’t quite take it anymore.

Hermione suddenly took charge and quite leaped on Ron, straddling his lap and kissing him feverously. Their tongues melded together and Ron groaned into Hermione’s mouth. She responded by moving her hips so that she was positioned right over the bulge in Ron’s khaki cargoes and pushing. Ron thrust back, and in the passionate fervor encompassing them began to take off his shirt and hers, trying to do it simultaneously but giving up when his arms got tangled. Hers was almost off when the bright, bold BONG BONG BING BONG of the clock on the mantle suddenly jolted them back to reality.

They both looked around, slightly panting and flushed. Ron turned even redder when he realized that they were sitting in his mother’s knitting niche, and sure enough, on the end table next to the couch lay a basket of yarn and a few bewitched knitting needles. He grinned sheepishly at Hermione and suggested, before he lost his nerve: “’Mione. Why don’t we, er, go up to my room? Only it’s the furthest up and there’s the ghoul making all that noise…erh, um…but, if you don’t want to, of course, don’t. Only if you want to. Sorry.”

Hermione just giggled before getting up off Ron’s lap and started the way up the stairs. She was halfway to the second landing before Ron shook himself out of his stupor and pulled himself up off the couch, painfully aware of the erection pushing against his pants.

“’Mione, wait up!” he called, rushing to join her. She reached out her hand and he took it, and they ran as softly as they could up to his room, giggling as they went.

Ginny looked up from her spot on Harry’s bare chest, something having jerked her from dozing. She looked up at Harry, who was simply smiling, but she couldn’t tell if it was because of what she just heard from outside her door or if it was because of the mindblowing sex they had just experienced.

“Harry. Harry, snap out of it!” She shook him to get his attention, and then pointed upwards. One floor above, they could hear two sets of footsteps and faint giggling. A few seconds later the unmistakable creak of Ron’s bedsprings could be heard, and the giggles subsided. Harry just smiled, and looked down at Ginny, who had her eyes closed and was shaking her head. “It’s about time, don’t you think?” she asked.

Harry’s grin grew bigger. Ginny’s breasts had become exposed and one was resting on his chest…he could feel himself beginning to get geared up for round two. “I’d rather think about a different Weasley, if you know what I mean.” Ginny giggled and leaned forward to kiss him. Soon, all thoughts of Ron and Hermione were gone from their minds.

-*-

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione had made it upstairs and collapsed on Ron’s flaming orange bedspread. They broke apart from kissing to rid each other of those bothersome pieces of fabric called shirts and then fell on each other once more. Ron was now on top of Hermione, one of his hands tangled in her brown curly hair and the other holding onto the metal frame of his bed as an anchor as he pushed into Hermione. Her hips raised and pushed against his, meeting each of his powerful thrusts with gyrations of her own. The bed beneath them began to creak, causing Hermione to pause their kissing once again to cast two protective spells: Colloportus, to lock the door, and Muffliato, to ensure that they would not be heard.

“Hermione,” Ron panted. “I can’t believe you just did that charm. I thought you said the Half-Blood Prince couldn’t be trusted?”

“Well, Ronald, if you remember who he is, he can’t.” Suddenly, Hermione’s mind called up the memory of standing outside a locked door just days before, listening to members of the Order discuss Snape. Could he be trusted? Or was she right in thinking that he couldn’t? Ron’s tugging at her hands called her back to the present, but she made a mental note to tell Harry and Ron what she overheard sometime in the very near future. At the present, though…

She looked back and Ron and smiled a little wickedly. Ron looked puzzled but excited, his face falling, however, when Hermione pushed him off and stood up from the bed. He was worried that he had done something wrong in provoking Hermione with his swear words, but all thoughts were soon pushed from his mind when he saw the look in her eyes. They were sparkling intensely, but her eyelids looked heavy with what he would have said was sleep if he didn’t know any better. She smiled that michevious little smile again before doing something that Ron found to be incredibly sexy. Passing her wand down her body, quite like a Muggle metal detecting wand, her clothes seemed to melt away. Soon, Hermione as he had never seen her before—naked—was standing in front of him.

Ron was agog. He had seen a naked woman before, but never in real life. Only in pictures from magazines of Fred and George’s, and it was nothing compared to this. Hermione’s skin had a slight pink tinge that made her look as though she was glowing. She raised one foot to hook behind her calf muscle, drawing her thigh over to cover what he had only seen once but dreamed about what must have been a million times. With her hands clasped behind her back, she bit her lower lip and looked at him from under those heavy eyelids. He felt as though he couldn’t breathe, just drink in the sight of her, with her chest pushed out and heaving slightly and the pink flush in her cheeks. Somehow, however, he managed a joke, even though his voice was quite and cracked just a little: “D’you…d’you think you could do that for me, too?”

Hermione just smiled and made the same sweeping motion with her wand. Ron’s clothes slid off of him to pool on the floor, and then there they were: naked and exposed, just looking at each other. Ron was a little embarrassed and made to cover himself up, but Hermione stopped him.

“No, don’t. I like…I like to look at you.” Her eyes moved over his body, taking in every hard muscle and every dust of freckling across his broad shoulders. His erection stood proudly from his lap, throbbing slightly and looking terribly inviting while intimidating her just slightly.

“’Mione,” Ron breathed. He held out his hands to her and pulled her to stand in between his knees, the tip of his manhood brushing her lips and causing her to shudder. “Look. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want. I know…I know that I was a little forward downstairs, but I would never want to push you to do something you’re not ready for. I love you, Hermione. Hopefully we’ll have the rest of our lives to-“ Ron stopped, realizing what he had said. He immediately turned bright red and hid his head in his hands. He mumbled something that Hermione suspected was an apology, but she couldn’t tell, for her heart was beating intensely in her ears.

She drew Ron’s head up so that he was looking at her, wether he wanted to or not. He seemed close to tears, and she was touched. She could tell he was extremely embarrassed, but she was elated at what he had let slip. “No, Ron. I want to do this with you, here, and now, and I know that it won’t be fu-….what you said before,” (here she blushed such a violent shade of red that she rivaled Ron’s) “but it will be something special. And I want to. I promise. Even though we do have the rest of our lives.”

With that, she pushed Ron down on his bed and covered his mouth with hers, both hearts clanging against their respective ribcages and arousal flowing through what felt like every vein in their bodies.

CHAPTER TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s Note: I hope you liked the first update since however long ago I published this story…I promise I won’t leave anybody hanging again! I hope you enjoyed, please review and let me know what I can do to make sure you’re coming back to me! I do love my readers, after all! Thanks, lovelies—Melaina.