Snow fell in a steady stream outside, so thick and dense that the motion of downpour made shadows on the wall. Hermione watched as the snowflakes hurled themselves from the heavens onto the layer of white that blanketed the Weasleys� garden, chasing away the little gnomes who obviously did not like this weather one bit and were sneaking over the fence one by one to make their escape to some shelter somewhere.

She�d been sitting on this window sill for some time now, knees drawn up to her chest, with Mrs. Weasley�s homemade quilt wrapped around her several times over. About an hour or so ago, after tiring of tossing and turning in bed, she'd finally given up on sleeping and crept up to the window, where Crookshanks had stationed himself for the night, all curled up and purring away without a care in the world. She smiled as she watched him, reaching over to pet him between the ears and tucking her bare feet underneath the warmth of his furry stomach.

She didn�t think she was ever going to get to sleep tonight, but then, she didn�t particularly want to. Each time she closed her eyes, that same terrible image came to her again: Ron lying lifelessly in a hospital bed, scratch marks all over his body and face, and that long, ugly scar that jutted from his collarbone, where the werewolf had slashed him deeply, stopping only a few blessed inches away from his heart.

For as long as she lived, she would never forget that awful, awful sight.

She shuddered again, and instinctively wrapped the quilt more tightly around herself, though she knew this had nothing whatsoever to do with the cold. She had to see him again. Though he was just a few flights away upstairs, she still needed proof, needed to see with her own two eyes that he really was here now, that he was back from the brink and safe and surrounded by everyone who loved him.

Ginny had fallen into a deep and heavy slumber some hours ago, having surrendered at last to that relentless exhaustion that she and everyone else had put off for so long while Ron had still been in uncertain territory. In the morning she would leave again for Hogwarts, and Hermione knew she would need her rest after this horrible ordeal. Hermione watched her carefully and padded across the room, then slipped out the door and began her climb up the stairs in the semi-darkness.

Blackness filled his room, muting the violent orange hue it normally had from the Cannons posters that had lined the walls since his childhood. There was a sliver of moonlight that slid through the gap in his curtains, and it streaked across his bed, illuminating his face. He was breathing; for that much she was grateful. For a long time, Hermione just stood there at the door, leaning against the frame for support, until finally, she walked what seemed such a great distance to his bed and sat on the edge.

She could see it from here.

A strip of light fell just over his upper body, and she almost looked away, but couldn�t. The scratch marks that had marred his face just a week ago were gone now; the skillful wand-waving of the doctors at St. Mungo�s had easily taken care of that. And though they had also managed to close the deep gash that ran down nearly the entire length of his pectoral muscle, she knew that that finger-long scar left in its wake would forever be a reminder of just how close she had come to losing him.

She reached out a hand to touch the mark, fingers trembling as she brushed over it as gently as possible. The doctors had assured her it was all healed now--despite how awful it still looked, and would look for the next few weeks, she reckoned--but she couldn�t quite believe it just yet.

Ron�s eyes fluttered open, and she pulled her hand away immediately.

�Hermione?�

�I�m sorry, I... I didn�t mean to wake you...�

He shifted in his bed, seemingly trying to shake off the grogginess. �What are you doing in here? What time is it?�

�Late,� she said softly. �I should go... I should let you get back to sleep-�

He must have seen her tears, even in the darkness, because the next thing she felt was his hand touching her face, his thumb fanning her cheekbone to wipe away a stray tear.

�I�m all right now, love,� he whispered. God, how good those words sounded. �I�m right here, I�m not going anywhere...�

The tears gushed even more at the statement, and soon he slid up to sitting, pulling her to him and resting his chin atop her head. It was a while before her sobs subsided, before the only sound left was their joint breathing.

��Fraid you�re stuck with me for the long haul, Miss Granger,� he said. �An out-of-control werewolf isn�t enough to put me out of commission. I�ve gone through a lot worse sparring with you.�

She laughed, in spite of herself. It felt so good to laugh; she hadn�t done so in a week.

�I suppose some of our rows are rather memorable, aren�t they?�

She looked down on his hand again, brushing her fingers down his palm before he closed his hand over hers and laced their fingers together.

�I was so scared,� she said. �I saw you lying there all pale and still, and I just...�

�I know, love... I know...�

�They kept telling me how much blood you'd lost... God, I would have given you every drop in me if they�d asked me to...�

He pulled her even closer to him, his hand smoothing her hair over and over in a comforting rhythm.

�I�m so sorry for putting you through that,� he said, kissing the top of her head. �But I�m here now. All in one piece. It�s over, Hermione... I promise you, it�s over...�

She gently pushed herself off him to look in his face again, kissing his hand as his fingers brushed across her jaw line.

�Don�t you ever put me through anything like that again, Ron Weasley,� she said. �Because if you do, I�ll kill you.�

He chuckled. �Is that an order, then?�

�You�d better believe it.�

There was silence again after those words, but it was not an uneasy silence. It was a stillness that needed no words, no pretense. She didn�t know how much time had passed between them--perhaps it had been an hour, or perhaps a mere fraction of a second--but her eyes wandered over to the scar again, and slowly, gingerly, she leaned forward to place her lips onto the raised flesh. She felt, rather than heard, his sharp intake of breath, felt the drumming of his heart reverberate against her mouth, and when she raised her eyes to look in his again, she recognized the unspoken question in them.

Without any words, she nodded, and she knew they both understood.

Understood that they were finally about to cross that last boundary after three years together, and that the desire that had always been there--strong and powerful and unwavering--had led them to this moment.

The hand that had been at her jaw line slid behind her neck and drew her close. His kiss was urgent, yet gentle at the same time. She matched his fervency, wanting to communicate physically--as much as possible--her relief at having him home, at having him here with her, holding her, caressing her.

She felt him whisper hoarsely in her mouth, �Hermione, we�re... here...�

Trying to break as little contact as possible, she whispered back, �So we are...�

�What if... what if they hear...�

She pulled away slightly and smiled. �We�ll blame it on the ghoul in the attic, then.�

He let loose a quiet chuckle, then lowered his lips to hers again, and all at once familiar sensations she�d come to know quite well over the years blended with new ones: the feel of his lips on her skin, now gliding over curves he�d never ventured to before, the delicate brush of his fingers down pathways she was now giving him the full freedom to explore.

And as he did so, she let her own instincts guide her, running her hands up and down the plane of his back, familiarizing herself with the contours of his muscles and the way they flexed beneath her fingers with every nuance of his motion.

Hands and arms and legs tangled, to the point where she didn�t know where he ended and she began. His mouth was everywhere, tracing a path down the column of her throat, across her exposed collarbone, and only when she felt his lips on her pulse point did she realize just how ragged his breath had become. Suddenly, a twinge of fear stopped her.

�Ron...�

�Hmm?�

�Are you... I mean, if you�re not ready... we don�t have to...�

She felt him smile against her mouth.

�Shouldn�t that be my line?�

�Ron, I�m serious... I don�t want you to push it... We can... we can wait...�

He traced her lips with his finger. �Do you want to stop?�

She shook her head. It was the last thing she wanted.

�Neither do I.�

�Are you sure?�

He smiled, his face hovering just above hers. �I won�t break,� he said. �I promise.�

She laughed into his mouth when he captured it, this time surrendering to his kiss completely, shutting her eyes and just following where the sensations led her. The kiss, like all his movements, was slow and gentle, never pushing, never rushing. She felt the gentle probing of his tongue coaxing her lips open, and she obliged, dancing this intimate dance with him.

His hand slid down the side of her torso, then down her legs, fingers kneading the muscles of her calf before they moved back up again, pushing the hem of her night dress up her thigh. Without realizing it, she had shifted to give him room to lift it up further, and he took this as implicit permission, letting his hand trail up to where her leg met her hip.

She let out foreign sound, breathy but not without substance, one that she hadn�t even known she was capable of making and seemed to come from the very back of her throat. She felt the shape of his smile on the flesh just below her earlobe, and he moved his mouth up just as his fingers curved over her hip.

�Show me,� he murmured, his breath making fire in her ear. �Please...�

She turned her head to reclaim his mouth, letting him swallow her whimper. Then, knowing exactly what he was asking, she closed her hand over his and guided him, gently at first, then bolder as his fingers gained confidence, and before long, she let go to grip his arms, surrendering completely to his rhythm, arching into his hand until she thought her heart would burst through her ribs from just one more second of this exquisite pleasure. She splintered underneath his touch some time later, her broken breath wracking her body. After a while, when her heartbeat had finally settled, she opened her eyes once more and saw him looking down on her.

�Hi,� he said, smiling.

�Hi yourself.�

�The ghoul�s having some kind of night, eh?�

She giggled, then wriggled closer to him.

�Reckon so,� she said. �And I have a feeling it�s about to get even more interesting before the night is out...�

She pulled him down for a kiss before he had the chance to respond to her bold statement, and felt the tremor of his shocked laughter as she pressed up against him. But the laughter faded soon enough, and the kiss quickly grew more urgent.

His hands quested lower again, one stopping just at her hip to grip it, the other skimming the top of her thigh, to where he�d pushed up the hem of her night dress earlier.

�Hermione...�

Never in her life did she ever think that the mere sound of her name could give rise to goose bumps all over her skin. There were a thousand and one meanings that he had poured into it: things for which there were no words, not even a formal language, things that could be communicated only through touch and kiss and taste.

Instead of answering with words, she lifted her hips slightly, angling towards him to free his hand. He took the cue and slid the night dress all the way up, planting kisses along the way on each inch of flesh he exposed: first her navel, then the bottom of her ribcage, and eventually the base of her throat.

After a while, he stopped, and she opened her eyes to see him staring at her, with wonder and lust and love and everything in between. She supposed most girls would have been embarrassed by now, having their boyfriends see their naked body for the first time, but she wasn�t. And she realized, she wasn�t really surprised.

Tonight there had been no fear, no doubt, no insecurity. There was only love and honor and respect, and she had felt it in his every touch, his every gaze.

�God, you�re beautiful,� he whispered.

Slowly, he ran the back of his fingers up the side of her torso, until he reached the swell of her breast, then began tracing its delicate curve, first with his hand, and then with mouth. Hermione closed her eyes and let out an inaudible sigh when she felt his tongue dart out and circle the underside of her soft flesh, then flick at her nipple before he took it in his mouth and sucked gently. She arched into him on instinct, breathing out his name and other incoherent words that made him draw her closer into him until she could feel his hardness pressing onto her center.

�Ron, please,� she said, arching into him again.

However impossibly close they were, the distance between them was still too great. She needed to feel his skin on hers, her body on his. Her mouth, his hands, her sighs, his moans, every single part of him merged with hers until it was impossible to separate them.

Her hands traveled down to the waistband of his pajama bottoms, tugging on them, and as if sensing her urgency--or else unable to resist his own--he closed his hand on hers and together, they removed the final barriers between them, until there was nothing left but the slide of bare skin.

Hermione raised her head to kiss him again, but sensed his hesitancy, and she let her head fall back on the pillow, looking up at him questioningly.

�What is it?�

He shook his head.

�It�s all right, Ron, you can tell me... You can tell me anything...�

He came down on his elbows and gently brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes.

�I just can�t believe you chose me, that�s all,� he said.

He pressed his forehead to hers, and Hermione welcomed his weight, letting his far heavier mass pin her slightly against the bed.

�D�you know what I was thinking of?� he said. �Out there, when I was bleeding, and I was waiting for them to come and get me?�

�What?�

�How sorry I was for what happened on that Hallowe�en, in our first year... that I almost got you killed by a troll because I was such an arse...�

She laughed, running her hand up and down his tricep.

�I�m serious,� he said. �I really am sorry, you know. For that, and for everything else... for all the times I�ve ever made you cry... for all the times I�ve frustrated you and all the times that you wish you had a better boyfriend-�

�I would never wish that, Ron.�

�For all those times I forget to show you just how much I love you... I do love you, Hermione.�

She smiled.

�I know,� she said. �And I do believe you were in the middle of showing me just how much, so unless you�d like another thing to apologize for, I suggest we pick up where we left off...�

He laughed in her mouth, and whispered, �You�re the boss...�

She was about to respond to his remark, but what came out of her mouth instead was an incoherent moan, when she felt him enter her. He placed his hands on her hips, tilting them slightly, and when she realized what he was doing, she tilted them further, hooking one leg over his waist, then the other.

He slid in even deeper before Hermione had a chance to register the brief moment of pain, then he stopped, as if waiting to make sure that she was all right. She answered his unspoken question by kissing him, and in time she felt his hips begin to move, making her catch her breath at the inexplicable sensation of being joined with him like this, her body molding itself around him, matching his tempo, meeting his rhythm.

In time, he placed his hands on either side of her face to prop up his upper body, his incoherent mumblings of love and promises blending with her moans. His movements began to quicken, his breath losing its steady rhythm as he tensed above her. She felt herself holding in her own breath, the air pressing in her lungs, begging to be released, until finally she felt him give in, feeling a mighty force shudder through his body before he stilled, breath shallow and warm on her face.

Hermione didn�t know how much time had passed before she felt him brushing the damp curls from her cheeks. She looked up at him and reached up to touch his face, sliding her hand down to his collarbone, then down his scar.

He closed his hand over hers, giving it a small squeeze.

�I�m never leaving you, Hermione,� he said, as if reading her thoughts. �Can�t get rid of me now...�

She laughed as he rolled them over so her cheek could rest on his chest.

�I�m holding you to that promise, Ron Weasley.�

�Mmm,� he said sleepily, and she looked up to see that he�d fallen sleep, his breathing having slowed down to an even rhythm now.

�Good night,� she whispered.

She placed a kiss on his lips before letting herself fall asleep beside him.