New York times two
Part 2 of New York times. AU. This is definitely maybe rated M
Hermione was bustling in the kitchen of her small apartment on the Upper West Side. The kettle was whistling but she wasn’t really paying attention. She was looking outside her window towards the park and from could see the Hudson gleaming in the distance.
Her back was turned away from her bed, on which Ron Weasley was sleeping peacefully. Her normally tidy apartment was a bit ramshackle. Books which were neatly piled on her coffee table were knocked down, all the shoes had fallen off the rack that stood beside her door. And clothes were littered carelessly…everwhere. In fact, she had pointedly turned away from a sock that was dangling cheerfully from the fan.
It’s not like she hadn’t had…guests over- Hermione mused to herself. But she couldn’t fathom a scenario where she would have allowed anyone to leave her house in a disarray. What’s more, she couldn’t imagine an instance where she would have voluntarily (and enthusiastically) contributed to the disarray.
She could feel her face turning hot as she thought about last night. Hermione had fumbled with the locks as she and Ron kissed with increased urgency. He had pushed her against the nearest wall, his hands moving up her thigh under her skirt until they rested on the curve of her ass. She had torn off the coat off his back as the stumbled- pushing up against each other before landing on the couch..
Hermione absentmindedly switched off the kettle and began pouring the tea a foot away from her mug.
“Really now” she muttered to herself as she made her way to the couch. It was indented with the combined weight of their bodies. Ron had slid his fingers inside her and then his tongue, eager and hungry, his feet dangling off the armrest.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt desire so explosive…
She bent down to pick up her skirt which was strewn in the short distance between the living room and the bed. She could still feel his hands all over his body, his breath hot in her ear, she could her him swear loudly as she followed the trail of hair down his navel and put her mouth around his swollen head.
Her mouth was twitching into a smile at the thought..
“M-mmorning”
She turned around.. Ron was walking towards her stifling a yawn.
————————————————————–
Ron woke up hardly believing his fortune.
He and Hermione…they had been together, slept together- “Fucked each other’s brains out” a voice inside his head blurted out gleefully. Several times.
He had pictured it so many times in his head and unbelievably it was even better than he had expected.
She was perfect. Intelligent, kind, loyal and sexy as fuck. And he was madly and completely in love with her. He sat up and looked straight ahead to find her sitting on the couch sipping tea.
She turned around at his greeting and gave him a small smile.
“Good morning, did you sleep well?”
He sank beside her, “Yeah, never better”
Suddenly he felt unsure. Did she feel the same way? She hadn’t told him she loved him back and he had figured all the non verbal gestures meant the same thing. But what if it was in the moment, or worse, Ron thought, his stomach sinking- what if it was out of pity?
“What’s wrong? Your face just fell” Hermione was watching him with concern, chewing her lip.
“It’s nothing… I was just..” he trailed off
Hermione continued to stare at him. Before he could help himself he blurted “it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, you don’t have be in love with me. Or anythin-ouch! What was that for?!”
Hermione had just whacked his head with a cushion.
“Do you really think I don’t feel anything? After last night? After we destroyed my apartment?”
“So you’re saying..”
“ I love you- I always have”
He grinned at her as she yanked him towards her mouth “ you’re not mad about the apartment are you?” he mumbled in between kisses.
“I absolutely am, but you can make up for it..in other ways”
“ I fully intend to”
———————————————————————
Hermione was resting on the window of her airplane, her life in New York packed away into two suitcases. She had been made partner at her firm and was moving to London to set up the Europe branch.
She had shouted down Ron’s offers to move to New York. He told her he had been saving up and Fred and George had given him their blessing to open the American Wheeze.
“I want to be wherever you are, I really don’t care” he’d told her earnestly one bitterly cold Saturday as they strolled across the park. But Hermione knew in her heart of hearts that New York wasn’t where she belonged. She went there to escape her past, but her future belonged across the pond-with her parents, Harry, Ginny and her god children. With Ron Weasley.
She was going home.
