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Ron dropped his bag inside the door of their flat, toed off his heavy boots, and stretched his arms high above his head with a groan. That had been the longest training mission his team had been on—five days in the woods on a stakeout with an experienced team of Aurors. Five days of crouching, hiding, Disillusionment Charms, cleaning charms, and little food. Five days of “survival training”—and going back and forth between saying “seriously? We’ve done all this before!” and “Wish we knew this on the hunt” to Harry.
And most importantly, five days of no Hermione.
It was just after eleven in the morning, so Ron knew that Hermione was at the Ministry. He’d have to go in this afternoon for some paperwork, anyway, so he figured he would shower, then head in early and surprise her for lunch.
He trudged to their bedroom and stripped out of his training robes before heading into the bathroom. As he started the shower, he thought better of surprising Hermione—if she found out that his group was back before he got there, she’d be miffed. Otherwise, she was probably running on her fifth day of worry.
Best to let her know he was home.
With the memory of Hermione walking towards him in her wedding dress on his mind, he mumbled, “Expecto Patronum.” His otter glided out of the tip of his wand and swam around his head, as excited as Pig to go on a mission. “Hiya, Love. I’m home and safe. Getting cleaned up, then I’ll head to you for lunch. Can’t wait to see you.” With a flick of his wand, his otter shot off to find his wife.
Ron stepped under the gloriously hot water and sighed. He stood for what could have been hours, allowing the falling water to beat against his back, relieving his sore muscles as he thought back on their training mission, mentally writing up his reports in his head. Writing reports and essays was different now, without Hermione to look them over and give her input. He’d spent so many years counting on her to make sure that whatever he had written was acceptable, but now he only had himself to count on. What he’d learned, however, was that more of Hermione must have rubbed off on him. His reports to date had been thorough, and his essays received high marks.
Writing about this real-world stuff is different than writing two feet on a ruddy charm, though, Ron thought as he turned to face the shower and began to wash up. Even running reports at the shop for Fred and George seemed more enjoyable—though still mundane—than any homework in school had been.
He was glad to be finished with school.
Just as he closed his eyes and dipped his face into the water, he felt a small hand glide up his back. He jumped, turning and grabbing his wand, a curse on the tip of his tongue—
“Mione,” he sighed in relief.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, taking his wand from his hand and placing it back on the shower shelf along with her own. “I should have said something when I came in.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched up to meet his lips in a kiss. “I just missed you so much,” she whispered against his lips.
Ron slid his hands down to her plump bottom and lifted. Her legs automatically wrapped themselves around his waist, and the feel of her slick skin against his made him groan. “Merlin, I missed you,” he said against her skin. “You left work for me?”
She nodded, then tipped her head back to give him room to explore her slim neck as the water soaked her hair. “Early lunch,” she panted. “Long, early lunch. Need you.”
Ron spun so he could pin her against the wall, the water falling all around them. “I always need you.” He crashed his lips to hers as he clung to her, pulling her body unimaginably closer. He swallowed her sounds as her fingers sank into his wet hair. Her legs tightened around his waist, and he could feel her desperation.
His Mione, his strong, always in control, take charge witch who only lost control for him. With him.
“Tell me what you need, Love,” he breathed into her ear. “Tell me.”
“You,” she breathed. “I need you. Just you.”
Ron growled and nipped just behind her ear as he reached down, lining himself up to her entrance. “This is gonna be hard and fast,” he warned.
Her responding “yes” was a low hiss as he sank himself deep inside her. “Yes! Please!” She moaned loudly as Ron began to move, taking her in long, powerful strokes. “Need…you…missed…you—OH!”
They moved together frantically and yet to a rhythm all their own. The steamy shower was filled with Ron’s moans and Hermione’s whimpers, Ron’s grunts and Hermione’s cries.
“So good,” Hermione managed to pant against his cheek, her hands holding him as close to her as she could, as if she thought he would slip away. As if he would ever willingly go anywhere. “So close…”
“Come with me, Mione,” Ron growled into her hair. “I’m there, come with me.” He shifted so he could look into her eyes, and the love and desire emanating from them pushed him over the edge. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head just as he felt her squeezing every last drop he had to offer her. Their release seemed to go on forever, Ron still moving against her until the last shudder ran through them.
Ron turned and sank onto the small bench he’d fashioned on the edge of their tub, Hermione still in his arms. She remained wrapped around him, but her body was relaxed against his chest.
“I love you,” he whispered, his voice almost blending into the sound of the shower still raining down on them.
“I love you.” She raised her head and gave him a lazy smile. He chuckled and pushed her curly, wet hair out of her face before kissing her nose. “Welcome home.”