So Easy to Pretend...

Hermione Granger closed her eyes and lay back against the pillows.

Ronald Weasley closed his eyes and settled back.

Crookshanks was pacing cautiously around the bed, looking up at Hermione, unsure of this sudden lack of activity.

Overhead Pigwidgeon flew in dizzy circles around the room and hooted eagerly; the frog on the window-sill occasionally supplying a chorus.

It had been a very very long day.

It had been a very very long day.

Hermione raised a hand to wipe the sweat off her brow. It had been an unusually warm summer, and the first time her family had not taken a holiday, on account of their moving house.

Spring cleaning in summer under Mrs. Weasley's watchful eyes had been more tiring than an hour of quidditch, and Ron did not even have the energy to turn on his side.

In only another year I'll be able to apply a cooling charm...

I wish Hermione were here to apply a cooling charm...

Only one more week before Hogwarts...

Only one more week before Hogwarts...

The very thought of Hogwarts seemed to revitalize her, with thoughts of friends, and studies, and a certain friend-who-is-much-more-than-a-friend.

He smiled to himself, thinking about the reunion with his two best friends; then sighed.

If only my feelings were returned...

If only my feelings were returned ...

If only we could be together ...

If only we could be together...

Hermione thought about the various factors, predominantly pig-headedness and stupidity that were against them.

Ron wondered whether he would ever actually be able to gather up the courage to speak about his feelings.

I'm so tired of waiting for him to grow up!

I'm so tired of just being friends, when I know that I want so much more!

Her hands were moving, seemingly of their own accord.

His hands moved against him, pushing up the T-shirt, caressing his skin.

They were inside her blouse, gentle but insistent.

They moved in strong strokes across his chest, edging into the waist band of his trousers.

Her skirt was up around her waist and her hands were inside her panties.

He undid the zipper, and pushed down his trousers, freeing his erect penis.

With her eyes closed it was easy to pretend...

With his eyes closed it was easy to pretend...

The hands caressed her deeply, skirting around her moistness, and finding the centre of her response.

Both hands were on him now, and had begun a restless motion against his skin.

Hermione imagined the feel of his throbbing manhood inside of her, and the motion of the hands intensified.

Rom imagined the feel of hot flesh surrounding him, and the pace of the hands quickened.

She let out an involuntary moan, straining towards release.

He moved his hips in sync with his hands, yearning, aching to achieve orgasm.

Just a little bit more...

Just a little bit more...

She spasmed with another quiet moan, and the hands ceased their movements.

He shuddered as he came, but he was quiet. It would not do to be heard.

She rearranged her clothes around herself, hoping no one had heard her.

He worried a bit about whether he had left any tell-tale marks on his sheets, but he did not seem to have enough energy for even that.

The brief pleasure she had gained was soon replaced with despair.

He found himself wishing for more.

How much longer do I have to pretend?

How much longer do I have to pretend?

Oh Ron! I wish I could tell you how I feel!

Oh Harry! I wish I could tell you how I feel!