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“No peeking,” Ron whispered, his hands over her eyes.
She grunted as he walked her forward a few more steps. “Are we going upstairs?”
Ron grumbled as he tripped slightly behind her. “Come on, trust me. You will love it, birthday girl.”
As she tried to steady herself, she reached out to grab where the wall should have been in their little cottage, only to find a cold, smooth piece of wood. “Where are we?”
“You’ll see soon enough, just a few more steps.” They moved forward, circling and spiralling until they came to a solid stop.
Ron positioned her in front of him. “Ready? 3, 2, 1… open your eyes.”
It took a moment for the room to come into view, but as it did, Hermione gasped, putting her hands in front of her mouth.
They were standing in what should have been their attic space; the low, rugged beams told Hermione this much. But instead of being faced with boxes of memories and their Christmas decorations, Hermione turned to see walls upon walls of bookshelves, the foldaway ladder replaced with a spiral staircase, and the beautiful circular window that had been one of the main personality points of the property was now occupied by the cosiest chair Hermione had ever seen. The floor was carpeted with a thick full piled carpet, fairy lights wrapped around the eaves, and a wicker box of blankets was perfectly positioned next to the chair.
Hermione found herself for the first time in her life rendered entirely speechless.
She turned to face her husband, who, on the whole, looked rather pleased with himself, yet still there was some level of doubt in his voice as he spoke. “Well, what do you think?”
Hermione threw her arms around him “You did all this for me? This must have taken weeks, how did you find the time”
He hugged her back tightly pulling her off her feet to stand tall as she kissed him. “Nah, a few sneaky days off from The Wheezes and a bit of help from your mum packing and restocking the hundreds of books in your old bedroom.”
“I love it so much. Whatever made you think of this.” Hermione rubbed her nose on his and watched his ears flush.
“The room is wasted as storage, we have the shed and your books are taking over the house, so I figured why not give you your own library… There's even a restricted section”
Hermiones heart fluttered.
He took a few steps forward, still holding her up off the ground. With a light push, Ron clicked one of the edges of the book shelf causing it to pop away from the wall.
Placing a hand on her bum for support Ron walked the book shelf out to reveal that the case was two levels deep. The second one had a thick glowing line around the bottom.
“Its an age line, he informed her proudly. That way when you have a little baby bookworm who wants to read in here with you he or she won't be tainted by the likes of Morning Glory Milking Farm or whatever other porn you are indulging in that day.”
Hermione she slapped his chest, “it is not porn, it's erotica it's very different to porn…” she flustered.
“Well, either way I wanted you to be comfortable when you were …” Ron coughed. “Reading… with one hand.” He placed a kiss on her forehead as she flushed, “The chair is being enough to spread out on… and if you care to try it out you may find it's a little treat for both of us.”
“What do you mean?”
Ron walked to the window, depositing her in the chair softly. With a devilishly delicious grin Ron grabbed a book from the shelf without looking at the title.
“Read to me.” He commanded
“But I've read that one.” Hermione grumped, pouting her lip.
“You just read your book, Mrs Granger-Weasley, let me give you a demonstration of what this chair can do.”
As she opened the book, Ron proceeded to remove her slippers, followed by her socks. His fingers traced the arch of her foot, causing a sensitive jolt to shoot upward.
“Out loud, Mi, this isn't a library, you need to be quiet in, in fact, it is actively frowned upon to be quiet here…”
“"Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.”” Hermione began.
Ron walked his fingers up her jeans. As he reached her button, he exposed the thin expanse of flesh on her stomach, kissing her abdomen tenderly.
He looked up and raised his eyebrows. “I don't hear reading.”
“"It's so dreadful to be poor!" sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.”
With one swift move, Hermione shrieked, and Ron had her bare from the waist down.
“Shh, less screaming, there will be plenty of time for that…” he kicked the side of the bench firml,y and Hermione watched as a cushioned footstool popped out from underneath the chair. He sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving hers. “ …later.”
Ron kissed the arch of her foot. Then her ankle, then her thigh, trailing hot blazing goosebumps in his wake.
“"I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things,”” Hermione's breath hitched as he pressed her legs open. ““...and other girls nothing at all,””
Two fingers found their destination immediately, rubbing small circles, “Fuck me, someone is excited.” Ron kissed the inside of her thigh. “I wonder, is it the books or…”
“Oh god, it's you,” She rolled her hips towards him, meeting him halfway to her, his tongue already flat and ready. “It’s always you.”
Even with the first swipe, her toes curled inwards, giving a small cry, Ron smiled against her. “Greedy girl, so very…” He swiped his tongue again, “eager.”
Somewhere among the years of exploration of each other's bodies, Ron had mapped every nerve ending, every twitch; he knew exactly how to tease her to completion in whatever time scale he decided. But today was Hermione’s day, for a few moments, Hermione lost herself in his expert tongue and filthy words. “I need you inside,” Hermione moaned as she regained control of herself just long enough to grip his hair.
“But you haven't…”
Her hands yanked at his hair painfully, pulling him upwards with a gasp she forced her mouth against his, enjoying the sweet taste of herself that lingered on his tongue. “It's my birthday,”
“Well, what the birthday girl wants, the birthday girl gets,” Ron chuckled as he unbuckled his belt. With a quick tap of the arm, Hermione felt the chair moving backwards slightly. Her eyes widened in silent questioning, “Adjustable for your reading pleasure…” he fell forward, lining up to her and entering her slowly, blissfully, dragging curse words from her mouth and stretching her oh so perfectly. Five years of marriage, and still she would never fully get used to being his. “And my fucking pleasure too, because Merlin's fucking beard, Hermione, you're so tight,” he hissed.
“More,” She dragged her fingers down his back. “Harder,”
“Yes, boss,” Ron's eyes twinkled, and Hermione knew in an instant that he had understood. With one swift flip, never leaving her body, Ron turned her. Hermione grabbed the back of the chair and braced herself. His hands ghosted her hips, goosepimpling her skin as he went. “Fucking luckiest bloke, alive…” she heard him whisper.
He began to move, gently at first, reaching around her body to rub gently on her nub. “Oh god…” She moaned.
“Stop talking to yourself,” Ron said, reaching his free hand to drag her face-to-face with him.
“Blasphemous…” Her voice hitched as she felt herself careening towards the edge.
“This is as close to heaven as I will ever need to be… Inside your beautiful cu…” she silenced him with her tongue. “ his hips sped up, matching in perfect time to his fingers.
“Not gonna… last… Mi… where… tell me where?” He choked on his disjointed words, but she knew what he was asking. Hooking her feet around his legs, Hermione reached back, gripping his bum and forcing him deeper.
“Imagine we make our baby, right now, by christening the chair you chose.” It was Ron’s Kryptonite. Like pulling the trigger on a very loaded gun. He came quickly, pulling her over the precipice with him. She cried out his name, and he whimpered in her ear. Filling her so delightfully full, she groaned at the pressure. His head was resting on her shoulder.
They laughed together as she felt his breathing returning to normal. He stroked her sides as he stayed anchored inside, keeping her plugged, refusing to waste a drop.
“Ok, you have this round, Granger,” Ron chuckled. “But I’m the winner, really.”
“Oh yeah, how do you figure that one out, Weasley?” Hermione taunted as she leaned her head back against his.
He gently pulled her face to face his once more. “Because I get to see your face light up brighter than the sun when you smile.” He kissed her softly. “Happy birthday, beautiful.”