The Remembering

She gasped as she rose and fell above him.  The sweat trickling down between her breasts in the cool room going unnoticed by both of them as they undulated in perfect synchronicity.  His hands held her hips, rocking her back and forth as he watched her head tilt back, her arching body calming and exciting him at the same time.  Slick flesh sliding together over and over as her messy hair tumbled down from the bun she had so painstakingly arranged it in earlier that day. He groaned as he thrust up into her, one hand reaching now to caress her perfect breast, then moving upwards to cup her cheek – drawing her down to him.

Their mouths met, exploring what was so familiar after all this time yet still so exciting as their tongues entwined, matching their now joined hands up on either side of his head.

Suddenly he flipped her over, now bracing himself on his hands as her hands slid up his sides and over the taut muscles in his back. The change of the angle had her moaning his name over and over like a mantra and hearing his name falling from her bite-reddened lips spurred him on.  Faster and harder, her legs wrapped around him, urging him on till…

“Hermione… Hermione are you alright?  I’ve been calling you for the last few minutes and you haven’t heard a word I said!”

She looked up irritably as her husband stood next to the couch where she had fallen asleep again.  It was still dark out, she could hear the chirping birds and just see the pink tinge touching the horizon and letting her know the day was finally here.

She sat up and smiled up at him.  “Sorry Ron, what time is it?”

“It’s 6 am.  Are you sure you won’t change your mind and come with this year?  It is the 15^th anniversary.”

“Thank you,” she almost whispered as she drew up the blanket she had tossed over her body last night, “but you know I can’t face it… Maybe next year…”  her voice faded away.

Ron gave a sad sort of half smile, “You’ve said that every year ‘Mione.”  Bending over and brushing her forehead with a kiss he walked out, leaving her to sink back into the warm and comforting memory her dream had taken her to of the consummation of their bond.  And as she rose to prepare herself for the day, she felt her body respond to the memories.  She stood still and groaned as a shiver raced through her body leaving her aroused and yearning for that time again.

Later that day found most of Wizarding Britain lost in celebration and remembrance.

It found Hermione lost in a certain wizard who excited her still after all these years better than anyone else ever could.

Outside, the older generation remembered the sadness, the younger generation whispered of admiration and love for their heroes and saviours and felt the joy of freedom.

Inside, Hermione felt his hands trembling lightly against her skin, his breath caressing her ear as he whispered quiet platitudes of admiration and love and saw the joy in his eyes as they celebrated in each other; their personal heroes.  She had saved him, literally and he had rescued her later from the unending pressure of being the Princess.

This moment, this union, was their own commemoration.

He brought out the best in her, made her face her fears and grasp at her dreams just as she encouraged him to move past his demons out into the light again.

And each year on this day, at this time, they would find each other amidst the chaos of remembrance and celebration.  They would find each other and lose themselves in each other’s embrace.

For one day only each year she belonged to him just as he belonged to her. And now, now as she cried out his name into the sultry silence that surrounded them he trembled to feel her touch.  He looked deep into her eyes and felt joy in this moment; bringing her body the ecstasy that he knew they experienced only together; bringing her soul the completion it craved all year long.

And as they lay, finally sated, in each other’s’ arms, he whispered to her the words he had been waiting 15 years to say, “I love you Hermione.  My heart belongs to you, my soul yearns for you.  Thank you.”  And as they drifted off to sleep, he pulled her to him, determined to make the most of the one day they had together.

For after today they would each go about their lives again – her back to her husband, whom she loved.  Oh yes – she loved Ron:  how could she not love him – they had fought side by side to protect and defeat and piece a broken world back together.  And he would go back to his quiet home, to making the sought-after potions that he quietly brewed to his own perfecting standards.

Both living their lives, venturing out when necessary, smiling at the right times, attending the events they were required to.  And should they occasionally meet he would smirk her way, his deep obsidian eyes boring into her warm chocolate ones as memories of their stolen days danced across the thought waves between them before they briefly nodded an acknowledgement to each other before turning away.

Then on to their lives until another year passed and they could again be together. To love.  To remember.  To commemorate.  To celebrate.