Unexpected.

~This isn’t really what I imagined.~

Pushing hair out of his eyes that had grown longer and more unruly as the months rolled on, living in a tent with his best friends on what could possibly be described as “the worst camping trip of all time,” he rolled over and looked at the body lying next to him. He’d heard of Muggle students backpacking across Europe, but he always associated those stories with the sexual debauchery that was so often a part of them, and their own trip was certainly nothing like this. Most of his nights were spent wishing that one of his tent-mates would move further away, while the one he truly wanted close to him didn’t seem to want to move close enough. By the end of things, he felt decidedly less debauched than he hoped.

The orange sheets rose and fell with shallow breaths, and if it weren’t for the soft snores that emanated every few seconds, he might scarcely believe she was even real. If he were honest with himself, he’d recognize how unlikely sharing his bed with this particular girl really was in the grand scheme of things. Almost seven years of efforts to simply DATE her, and the breaking point of her resolve was a simple mention of saving house elves. Did he give a flying fuck about house-elves and whether they would live or die? Hell no, but he did feel like he was about 15 minutes away from death, and it was a bit of a last-ditch attempt to get a bit of a snog in from the object of his affection, and the mission was by all means accomplished. Truth be told, he had greatly underestimated just what worlds a simple statement about helping a lower class would open up to him. Hermione Granger, it seemed, was more into house-elves than originally thought.

She had kissed him hard that first time, enveloping him in an embrace of arms and lips. She kissed with a skill and seductiveness he did not entirely expect, but was none too displeased about. His previous experience, through both his well-known affair with Lavendar Brown in his sixth year, and the lesser-known broom-closet romance with Parvati Patil early in their fourth (made the Yule Ball decidedly more awkward than it should’ve been…), was certainly limited, and he had always assumed that Hermione had only ever kissed Viktor Krum; a thought that continued to make his stomach sour at the very mention of the Bulgarian’s name. That first kiss, however, filled his mind with questions that he couldn’t quite process as all blood from his brain had fled directly to his cock. And how could it not?

Her lips affixed to his own, her arms wrapped around his neck, and her hips pressed firmly against his groin sent every synapse firing, thinking of what he’d do to this woman. In his own mind, he would attribute that moment as spurring on his survival instinct, as every thought as spells rained down around them was of what he was going to do to defile Hermione Granger. His blood turned hot as he cursed Death Eaters to their knees, planning to seduce Hermione to her own later that evening. He felt like he could simply toss his wand to the side and start bludgeoning enemies with the iron-hard strength of his bulging hard-on, picturing Bellatrix Lestrange squealing with horrified delight at the size of his firm erection. When he saw the vile woman crumple to a heap as the battle drew to a close, he could only dream of the sweat-soaked, exhausted, and over-sexed Hermione laying before him at the end of that night, panting heavily and begging for more of the pleasure that only he could provide.

Even after Voldemort fell and he spoke to Dumbledore’s portrait with Harry and his soon-to-be sex goddess, his thoughts ran through every sexual position and memory he had in his arsenal, replacing Lavendar’s face with Hermione’s as she bobbed up and down on his manhood, carefully keeping the Sorting Hat in front of his pelvis so as not to alarm anyone present. When they all arrived back at The Burrow that night, there was little time wasted before he and Harry were settled in what was now only George’s room, with Hermione nestled in the sheets of his bed, by herself. It wasn’t long at all before Ron checked the snores of both his brother and best friend, then snuck down to his own quarters, only to find Hermione sitting on the edge of the bed, awaiting his arrival.

No words were spoken at first, as their lips were otherwise preoccupied with the frantic clamoring of their mouths on one another. Their clothes were divested in a heartbeat, and he smiled despite himself when she cried out from his mouth latching onto her nipple, his hands wandering all over the curves he had dreamed about for so long. His hand quickly found its way to her sex, rubbing gently-hard on her wet mound, causing her to buck and dig her nails into his back. It was his turn to gasp as her free hand grasped his cock and began stroking, hearing a smile in her alternating sighs and moans.

“Oh, Ronald,” she gasped, eyes lazily roaming the ceiling. “You’re so much bigger than I thought…much bigger than Malfoy…that foul, loathsome, evil little cock…”

“Roach…cockroach, you mean?” The confusion was evident in his voice, though slightly muffled from the breast in his mouth, and strained from the pressure on his manhood.

“Oh, yes…oh yes, right there…”

His ministrations grew more vigorous as Hermione pushed into his hands and mouth, her own hand pumping quickly on his straining member. Suddenly gripping his neck in her hand, she smiled devilishly as she shoved him onto the bed, his legs hanging over the side, his cock standing high in the dark. Dropping to her knees, she continued to pump him with one hand, and darted her tongue quickly over the head of his prick, desire evident on her face.

“And you’re much longer than Neville…turns out Longbottom is just a name, after all…”

“Wait, wha- you and Neville? OH!” He cried out as Hermione enveloped his entire length in her mouth, feeling himself slide all the way to the back of her throat. In the back of his mind, he remembered that usually people had a gag reflex, but the sensations emanating from his groin made all logic flee his mind. The warm, wet sensation of her tongue massaging his penis was almost enough to set him over the edge, and she seemed to pick up on his heightened arousal as she sucked hard and fast, causing him to spill within her mouth, sending a shockwave through his entire body.

“Wow, Ronald,” Hermione smiled, surprisingly not-spitting, much to Ron’s semi-concern. “That was even more than Hagr…”

“Stop!” Ron put a hand up, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion and revulsion at the thought of how she was going to finish that sentence.

“Oh, Ron…make love to me, now!”

And that simple phrase was enough to engorge his member once more, and she crawled on top of him, guiding him in to her soft, wet folds and pushing herself all the way down onto his hard cock. Her cries grew louder as she rode him, and louder still when she rolled over and he hammered his rod into her as hard as she begged him to, reaching frantic screams when he flipped her over and brought her to climax with the force of his thrusting. She passed out into a sex coma shortly thereafter, and Ron followed shortly behind into the realm of sleep with a smile on his face from the sound session he had just had. It wasn’t until the next morning, when he ran fingers over the open wounds on his back and thought back to what was said by his beloved that he grew truly concerned. He had expected an intense sex-romp, yes, but he certainly didn’t expect that his sweet, innocent Hermione was as…experienced…as Rita Skeeter might have so-often implied.

He gasped in surprise as he felt a familiar hand begin to brush lightly across his genitals, causing his cock to twitch and swell, and made the face of his bedmate turn towards him, that same devilish smile twisting itself across her visage. Scooting back so that her ass pressed firmly against his growing member, she continued to pump and squeeze until he was fully hard. This was as far away from what he expected, but he couldn’t say that he didn’t like it. As long as he could shut the images out of his mind of almost every male he knew having been with HIS Hermione, this arrangement could work out spectacularly well.

“Take me…here…” She pulled him close by her grip on his erection, placing the head, much to Ron’s surprise, at her anus. “No one’s been there since Firenze…”

~This isn’t really what I imagined.~

END.