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-London, Hermione’s flat, morning after a long, long trip-
The rain had been falling since morning, soft and steady, tapping against the window like a lullaby. Ron slept — really slept — for the first time in weeks. When he stirred at last, Hermione felt the shift before his eyes even opened. He pressed a drowsy kiss against the hollow of her collarbone, then her neck, and she smiled before she even spoke.
“Slept well, love?”
Ron hummed against her skin, warm and lazy, still half dreaming.
“Best nap of my life,” he murmured, brushing another kiss along her collarbone. He stretched like a cat in sunlight, then nestled closer, his lips finding the crook of her neck as if he could never quite get enough of her. “Woke up exactly where I wanted to be.”
His voice was soft, rough-edged with sleep, his blue eyes still hazy with wonder when he finally looked at her.
“Told you we wouldn’t need pajamas,” he added, and kissed her slow — deep enough to say all the things he couldn’t voice yet. When he finally pulled back, his thumb traced under her eye. “Morning, Hermione,” he whispered, like it was a promise.
Hermione smiled wide, because he looked so beautifully content. “I think it might be afternoon,” she teased. “But who cares.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched beneath him, her laughter soft against his throat — and then her tone shifted, just a touch. “Honestly, though… you slept well? No strange dreams? No waking up?” Her eyes searched his, carefully, as if the truth might hide in the smallest flicker.
Ron shook his head, steady and sure.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I actually slept. Didn’t wake up once. No dreams, no panic — just you. Just this.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, and for a moment neither of them moved.
“It’s the first time in… I don’t even know how long,” he admitted. “Didn’t feel like I had to fight something off. I just felt safe.”
Hermione’s throat tightened. He smiled against her mouth, kissed her once, slow and grateful.
“You’re my cure,” he murmured.
“I’m so happy you’re okay,” she whispered, holding him tighter. The rain had picked up outside. She glanced toward the window. “I was going to show you the city today… but I suppose it’s time for plan B.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Plan B?”
She grinned and kissed him, rising with a laugh that sent warmth through him like a spell. “Trust me.”
Before he could ask, she slipped out from under him, tugged his shirt from the floor and pulled it on. It swallowed her frame and hit mid-thigh, and it was suddenly his favorite shirt in existence. She pressed a hand to his stomach, easing him gently back onto the bed.
“You stay right there. I’ll be right back.”
Ron flopped back into the pillows with a groan, watching her disappear through the door. “You’re bloody mad, you know that?” he called, smiling anyway. The room still smelled like her, rain and warmth and something that was just Hermione. His fingers brushed the sheets where she’d been — still warm, still humming with her magic.
Whatever you’re planning, Granger, he thought, I’m already gone.
When she returned, she was carrying a tray. Tea. Toast. The domestic simplicity of it almost undid him.
“This is my territory, Weasley. My rules,” she said, setting it down beside him. “Eat up.”
He did, obediently, though his eyes stayed fixed on her as she rifled through a drawer across the room. She peeked over her shoulder and smirked.
“Just be patient,” she said, and disappeared again.
He laughed into his tea, shaking his head. “She says be patient,” he muttered. “While wearing my shirt and plotting something diabolical. I’m in so much trouble.”
When she reappeared, he nearly dropped the tray.
The light was on now. She stood framed in the doorway — wearing a short white medical scrub, unbuttoned, just barely skimming her thighs. The rest of her was all soft curves and gleaming skin, a stethoscope looped around her neck, a small glowing R stitched magically just above her heart on the delicate fabric of her lace bra. She held a medical briefcase, impossibly smug.
“Patient Weasley?” she said sweetly, stepping closer. “I’m going to teach you how Muggle doctors work… with a little twist.”
Ron forgot how to breathe. Toast forgotten. Tea cooling somewhere on the sheets.
“Bloody hell, Hermione,” he whispered, awed and completely wrecked. Then, grinning helplessly: “I think I’m going to need a very thorough examination.”
She crossed to him, slow and steady, fighting a laugh, as she had promised herself, she would stay in character no matter what.
She placed the briefcase on the nightstand, and without another word straddled his lap, the stethoscope glinting between them. Ron thought for a moment he must still be asleep and dreaming. His hands flew to her hips instinctively, but she swatted them away, and he grinned like a mad man.
“First” She started, without missing a bit “ We check that pulse.” She held up the cold metal disc with a mock-serious expression. “This is going to be cold.”
Ron nodded, enthusiastically. When she pressed it to his chest, his heart nearly broke the thing in half.
“Hmm… sounds fast,” she murmured, leaning in until her lips brushed his neck. “Very fast. Strong, though.”
He shuddered beneath her. His hands twitched at his sides, aching to move.
“Take a deep breath for me, patient Weasley”
Ron did as told, raising his entire torso as he inhaled, making Hermione nearly wobble above him. She kept her straight face throughout and shifted- subtle but devastating, just enough to make his hips jolt.
“You always this thorough with your patients, or is this just a me thing?” he rasped.
“This is unquestionably just a you thing,” she said, smiling wickedly.
Then she ran her hands slowly up his sides, tracing his ribs, his chest, his shoulders, until her palms framed his face. “A bit warm, maybe,” she murmured, leaning close enough that the glow of the R lit his skin, and pressed her lips on his forehead before she locked her eyes with his, which were sparkling bright. “You’re burning up, love.”
Ron’s breath hitched. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. I’m hot. Very hot- scorching, Doctor. Definitely fever. You should probably… do something about it.”
Her laugh was quiet and lethal. “I think you’re right.”
She hovered over him, lips brushing his, a tease of warmth, a whisper of tongue that made his pulse stutter, and then she straightened again, calm and clinical. “I think this requires an aggressive intervention.”
Hermione leaned back and the lose jacket fell off her shoulders.
Ron literally whimpered.
He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a prayer. His fists tightened against the sheets. “Merlin, Hermione—if that hits the floor, I’m gonna need a bloody resurrection spell.”
“Doctor Granger” she corrected, and took his hands in hers, kissed his fingers. “Brace yourself, patient Weasley,” she whispered, guiding his arms around her waist as she leaned in, her mouth tracing his neck. “It’s going to be a long, hard, thorough procedure.”
“Merlin, I hope so- Doctor” Ron’s hips bucked up again, and Hermione fought a grin.
“I must warn you, this is a very unorthodox procedure… experimental, you could say”
Ron nodded, the glint in his eye and the smirk on his lips were incontrollable. “I’m putting myself entirely in your hands, Doctor Granger” He sighed out, voice dripping with want and very little restrain.
Hermione nodded in approval. Her right thumb swapped over his mouth, pulling his bottom lip down. “Open up. Say AH”
Ron obliged, his chest moving with the laugh he was trying to fight.
Hermione leaned over and slid her tongue in his mouth brushing slowly against his, swallowing the sound and turning it into a hum that she echoed. When he tried to speed up the pace, swiping his tongue over hers almost desperately, she pulled away.
Ron kept his eyes closed tight, and his face wrinkled. “Right… patience” He muttered, voice shaky. His hands gripped her hips tighter.
Hermione shifted herself back slightly again, making room for his growing arousal. She rubbed herself against it, and moaned.
Ron thought he might actually need an Ombulance or whatever those muggle things were called.
“This is most unusual” Hermione said, mock-serious, looking down at the bulge in front of her.
“I need to take a closer inspection”
She slithered back on her knees, pulling the waistband of his boxers, releasing Ron from the pressure, which made him sigh and squirm.
He tilted his head back in anticipation and whimpered when he felt her hand wrap around him.
“So hot too… and throbbing” he heard her say, voice low and silky. He still didn’t dare open his eyes to look, terrified he might still be dreaming. He nodded frantically again and swallowed thickly. “Yeah-yes, Doctor Granger” he managed, somehow.
Hermione leaned, and just like she had done to his forehead, pressed her lips on the tip of his shaft. She just pressed her lips, nothing more.
Ron thought he was going to die. He shuddered, a stranger sound leaving his mouth that he didn’t know was capable of producing.
Then she kissed. Then she suckled. Then her lips wrapped around it and slid up and down, kissing, testing, licking.
Ron was sure he had died. The condition must have had gotten worse, and he must have passed away at some point during the night. And now he was in paradise. He smiled contently. Death was not bad. Not at all.
Hermione struggled to keep a straight face through her ministrations.
The sounds alone, that Ron was making, were making her extremely self-aware... But not in a bad way. She felt powerful, she had never done anything remotely similar before, and until she started, she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to do it correctly, although she had – of course- done tons of research about it.
Her cheeks blushed as his moans became louder, longer, and his body arched and his legs squirmed underneath her.
She continued, slowly, for quite a while, until his hips jerked almost violently a couple of times.
He had to open his eyes. He was alive. And Merlin’s beard, the sight nearly destroyed him.
His hand flew to her shoulder when his hips jerked again of their own accord. “Mione…” he rasped.
She stopped, thinking for a second she might have hurt him somehow.
But when she looked up and met his eyes, and saw the sheer bliss on his face, she grinned. “Doctor” she corrected once more.
“No more?” she asked raising an eyebrow.
“I’m going to bloody burst” he said hurriedly and urgently. “Doctor”
She held back a chuckle, as his face was red and he was absolutely serious.
She leaned back up, and straddled him again. Her jacket bunched up around her waist.
Taking his hands once more, she dragged them over her torso and led them over her breasts. Ron could see the glowing R between his fingers as he pressed possessively, rubbing his thumbs over the hard nipples protruding under the lacy bra.
“I think it’s time for the main intervention” she breathed out, the heat becoming unbearable under his hands. Ron nodded again, his jaw opening slightly as she led her hands once more, this time to her back.
When his fingers found the clasp of her bra, the breath left both their bodies at once.
Ron’s patience had left the flat.
The second her exposed breasts graced his eyes, he leaned forwards, latching his lips in the valley between them, almost desperately.
Hermione sucked a breath at the contact and chuckled at the groan of impatience that left Ron’s mouth.
He kissed and suckled frantically but reverently, her breasts, her collar bone, her neck.
She wanted to scold him, but couldn’t manage anymore.
“You’re supposed to be patient…” she moaned, tilting her head back, making more room for her boyfriend’s hungry lips.
“Yeah, well. I’ve never been good at following rules” He nibbled gently on one of her nipples, looking up at her, with a grin “Doctor”
Much later — after the storm, after the noise and laughter and the collapse into quiet — Hermione lay panting against his chest, cheeks aching from smiling. She pressed a kiss to the spot over his heart.
“How is my patient feeling?”
Ron’s fingers traced lazy circles down her back, his chest still rising fast. “How’m I feeling?” he echoed, grinning, voice wrecked but soft. “Like I just survived the most intense medical procedure known to man.”
He nuzzled her hair, kissed her temple. “Reckon I’ll need a follow-up visit. Daily. Hourly, even. Strict schedule. No skipping appointments, Doctor.”
She laughed against his skin, and he kissed the sound right off her lips.
“I love you so much I don’t think I could ever properly show you”
“I love you,” he replied, eyes half-closed. “You’ve already shown me. Every second of it.”
He paused, smiling. “Also, my legs are completely useless now. So there’s that.”