La Vie en Rose

Taken aback, Ron let Hermione's tongue invade his mouth before his tongue dueled with hers. She had her hands in his hair and his soon found the way to her waist. It felt so natural. Like they had left each other only the day before. Their tongues were getting reacquainted. He heard her moan softly in pleasure as he slid his hands over her buttocks.

When they broke apart to breathe, Ron leaned over her neck and began to kiss her pulse point softly, caressing her hair lovingly. He slid his mouth along the soft curve of her throat and stopped at the first button of her pyjama top.

He looked into her eyes as he lay almost entirely on top of her. She smiled at him and he smiled back, taking her small hand in his big one, kissing it respectfully, lovingly, then more urgently. He took her face in his hands and brought his lips close to hers, kissing them softly.

A few moments later, his head was resting on her breast, still covered by the pyjamas. He was caressing her right arm, and she his lovely head. They were silent, hadn't said a word for ten minutes. Hermione was listening to Ron's breathing, marveling at the sound whereas Ron was inhaling her sweet scent -- he had missed it so much.

He looked up and locked eyes with her once again. He put his thumb on her lower lip and caressed it gently. He was then drawing her mouth with his fingers, while she was running her hand through his hair, never looking away from each other.

It was as if time had stopped. They were loving each other very slowly, taking their time, enjoying every second of it, mesmerized by each other.

He slid his hands over her breast, then started to unbutton the heart-shapped buttons of her pyjama top very cautiously. She was lying still on her back, letting him lead the game. When he opened the top and helped her to take it off her body, they found themselves face to face. She put her small hands on his shoulders, kissed his neck, then brushed his lips gently. She then went for the hem of his jumper and took it off his body along with the t-shirt underneath it.

He pulled her into a tight hug, and savoured the feeling of her breasts against his chest. They kissed lovingly for a few minutes, drawing circles on each other's back. Hermione's skin was instantly covered with goosebumps. As the kisses grew more fervent, she felt him tugging at her pyjama bottoms and the next thing she knew, she was on her back, Ron taking off her pyjamas and knickers.

When he looked at her naked body, at her in all her feminine glory, he couldn't stop a tear from falling from his eyes. He then covered her body with his, his trousers still on, and buried his head in the crook of her neck, sobbing like a child.

She had tears in her eyes too, and let them cascade down her cheeks unashamedly. She rocked him in her arms silently, until he seemed to have got back to his senses and looked at her. He immediately saw the tears in her eyes and the tracks on her cheeks, witnesses of other tears. He kissed her eyelids with all the love his heart held for her. He kissed the remaining wetness away, and wiped her cheeks with his mouth. He was so gentle and so loving that she couldn't help but cry again.

This time, he held her head in his hands and, looking at her right in the eye, said, "No, not now. Don't cry. Don't cry, Hermione."

She smiled through her tears and nodded. He sighed and, leaning in to kiss her again, added in a whisper, "Oh, Hermione, I've missed you so much..."

"I've missed you too, Ron..." she cried.

His lips were now on her neck. He was caressing her waist and her belly. His mouth soon covered one of her breasts and she inhaled deeply, the pleasure making her forget everything else. She couldn't hold back the moans and whimpers escaping from her throat, and neither did he.

He worshipped her in every possible way, bringing her close to the edge many times before she moaned, her eyes closed because of the sweet torture he was inflicting on her. "Ron... come inside me."

She heard him remove his belt, then opened her eyes in time to see him take off his trousers and boxers. He was so gorgeous; he had always been. They held each other for a while, savouring the feeling of being naked and close to one another, until he couldn't take it any longer and positioned himself on top of her. When he entered her, she truly felt like fireworks were exploding inside her belly. It had been such a long time since she had felt this way.

He soon established a rhythm that pleased them both. When her orgasm hit her hard, she felt like she would die on the spot; yet the sweetness of it all made her melt. She felt him come inside her and his body crushed hers soon afterwards before he rolled himself on his side, still inside her, sighing happily.

She kissed him on the lips and he took her in his arms. She slid her arms around his waist. They were silent. They didn't want to talk, to spoil the moment. They were only looking at one another. Everything was so perfect, the way it should have been for a very long time. They were happy just to hold each other, and soon drifted to a light sleep, their hearts and bodies contented.

They woke up together and made love again and again, all morning long, until they fell asleep for good.

*****

Hermione woke up first and was surprised to see something red sprawled on the pillow next to her. She smiled when she remembered the events that had taken place only hours before. She caressed Ron's hair and kissed it slightly before reaching for his t-shirt and putting it on. She then wondered what the hour could be. She was getting up when someone grabbed her hand and pulled her back in bed. She landed on her buttocks.

"Ouch."

She turned her face and looked quizzically at Ron. He was watching her with fear in his eyes. He didn't need to speak to make her understand what he was scared of. She caressed his face gently and said, "I wasn't going anywhere, Ron... I was wondering..."

Shame filled his eyes and he put a finger on her mouth, silencing her.

"No, don't explain yourself. I'm sorry. You woke me and when I saw you getting up, I..."

It hurt so much to even try to say the words.

"I know what you were afraid of," she whispered. "But I just wanted to know if it's still the morning or the afternoon," she laughed mirthlessly.

"Okay," he said, pursing his lips and letting go of her hand.

She got up and looked at the clock in her kitchen.

"It's two o'clock in the afternoon," she called.

Ron lay on his back and covered his face with his hands. He was tired. Many conflicting feelings were fighting for supremacy in his mind. On the one hand, he was happy. For the first time in five years, he truly was happy. Yet, there was this fear deep inside, this fear taking hold of his belly, that she would leave again, or that this was yet another dream; he wouldn't be able to stand it. He'd rather die a thousand deaths than discover that this was all a dream. He pinched his cheek and felt the pain. This was not a dream. This was reality. But this acknowledgement didn't make the fear go away. It was still clutching his belly, it was an iron-hand squeezing his belly hard. He felt like crying but held back the tears.

"Are you hungry?" he heard her ask.

He slightly jumped at the sound of her voice. He looked at her. She was standing near the door to the kitchen, looking so small and fragile.

"Sure."

There was an awkward moment when neither spoke. She finally said, "I should have known you'd be hungry."

He laughed sincerely.

"Yeah. That hasn't changed."

"I'm afraid I don't have much in my fridge to content the stomach of a Weasley!" she said, smiling awkwardly, before spinning on her heel and walking towards the fridge. She didn't see the tip of her wand sticking out from under the fridge. She didn't feel it when she unvoluntarily made her wand roll further away when she opened the fridge. "I have some yoghurt..." she said, peering inside the small rectangular box that was her fridge, "Oh, no, wait, I have some ham... and some butter. I must have a baguette in the freezer. I could make us sandwiches. What do you think?"

She turned round and collided with Ron's tall body. She hadn't heard him walk up to her. He had put his boxers back on.

"That would be fine," he said, taking her hand in his and kissing it, his eyes locking onto hers. He ran a hand through her hair, a small smile forming on his lips. "I like your new haircut..." His smile disappeared. "...but I liked the other style better. You know... the long bushy brown hair. This is not Hermione's haircut. This cut is fine... but it isn't you... not really. This is Lily's haircut, not Hermione's."

Hermione looked at him in disbelief.

"You... you know about that... about..."

"Yes. I know you assumed the identity of an Emily Smith. That people nicknamed you Lily."

"How?" she asked with tears in her voice.

"Your friend, Sophie. I asked her where you lived. She didn't know your real name was Hermione."

"No, she didn't. I never told her."

"She's a nice girl..."

"She is. She's been my only friend in Paris. Along with..."

She interrupted herself. She found it painful to talk about Aymeric.

"Along with who?"

"Along with a nice man who helped me a lot."

"Oh."

He didn't want to ask her the question which was burning his lips. Was this Aymeric more than a friend for her? Had he been a lover? Was he Hermione's lover?

"Nothing happened between Aymeric and me," she said, kissing his jaw. "He was only a friend. A sort of friend."

Ron was relieved to hear that but didn't tell her. He pulled her in a hug and kissed her hungrily. When he let go, he said, "Your friend, Sophie... she looks a lot like Ginny."

Hermione sighed.

"I know. Especially since she dyed her hair red. You don't know how painful it was to see her every day when she reminded me so much of Ginny."

"You miss Ginny?"

"What do you think?" she asked, avoiding his eye.

"She misses you too," he whispered. "She was really hurt when you... when you left."

She didn't know what to say.

"I miss them all so much... Harry, Ginny, my parents, your family and my dear old Crookshanks..."

"I took care care of him after..."

"You did?"

"Yeah," Ron deadpanned, "we finally managed to get along well. We had more in common than we both thought we did. Right now he's at the Burrow, though."

She took a deep breath and hiccupped.

"I miss them all so much," she repeated, "But I don't know if I could face them all again. Especially my parents." She burst into tears. "I'm ... sorry. You can't know how sorry I am. Though I know that saying so doesn't make up for five years of absence."

He felt yet another pang in his stomach and sadness filled his eyes. He was silent for a moment, then added, not knowing what else to say at that very moment, "Your hand is cold."

"I know. They always are."

Silence reigned again for a moment. Until...

"Hermione... we have to talk. We need to talk," he said in an anxious tone, his voice uncertain.

"I know..."she mouthed.

"We need to sort things out."

She nodded and looked up at him then rested her head against his strong chest. He was so strong... yet so fragile inside. She kissed his chest.

"I know we need to talk. But... not today. Please. Ron, today, I want to pretend that... that we're a normal couple. I want to spend this day with you without thinking of the past... or the future. Can we do that? Can we?"

She was now pleading with her eyes. He wanted to do so... and why not, after all? Why not pretend for a day that nothing had happened? Why not play the game and spend a happy day for once? The time when questions would be asked and answers would be needed would soon come, but he wanted a rest for now. Just for one day. If only for one day.

"Yes. We can," he answered, smiling.

"Thank you... "

She kissed him. They stayed in an embrace for what seemed both like an eternity and a second. He then felt her reach for his hand and began to lead him into the bedroom. She stopped in the middle of the room and told him, "Now stay right here and close your eyes."

He looked at her quizzically.

"Why?"

"Just do it, Ron. I swear I won't go away."

He hesitated for a second, then closed his eyes.

"Alright..." he answered, but the muscles of his jaw clenched.

She let go of his hand. He was scared to death that when he opened his eyes again, she would be gone, but he didn't open his eyes. He wanted to trust her. To trust her again. He was surprised when he heard a soft song playing. Soon, he felt Hermione's hand take his again.

Des yeux qui font baisser les miens
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche
Voilà le portrait sans retouches
De l'homme auquel... J'appartiens...

"Open your eyes."

"Hermione?"

"Dance with me, Ron."

They began to sway slowly to the sound of the music. Hermione put her head on his chest and closed her eyes. She felt as if the song had been written for them, because of that very moment.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Qu'il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose
Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tous les jours
Et ça m'fait quelque chose
Il est entré dans mon coeur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause
C'est lui pour moi
Moi pour lui
Dans la vie
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré
Pour la vie
Et dès que je l'aperçois,
Alors je sens en moi
Mon coeur qui bat

At that very moment, nothing mattered. The past was forgotten, the future was a blur; only the present time mattered. Hermione could hear Ron's heart beating and she felt hers warming. His hand was in her hair, his head on hers. Edith Piaf's voice wking her whole body vibrate; she felt so alive. She had never felt this alive. La Vie en Rose was Hermione's silent declaration of love. She knew Ron didn't understand the lyrics and she was glad he didn't. She knew she loved him; she had always loved him and it would always be so. And though she was dying to tell him she loved him, she knew it wouldn't be that easy. They had to take things slow.

She laughed softly. Take things slowly. Well, maybe they shouldn't have made love, then. No, she didn't regret a single minute of that morning. And even though they had agreed to spend the day pretending the past had never happened, she knew they'd have to sort things out the next day, if they wanted to build a new and healthy relationship. She felt a squeeze at her stomach. Could they build a new relationship on the ruins of their old one? Could they be friends again? She missed their friendship as much as she missed his body, but she somehow knew that whatever happened, they could never be friends again. They had crossed that line and there was no way back.

She slowly shook her head. She didn't want to think about it now. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered that day. But listening to the song, she realized Edith Piaf was right: the happiness Hermione felt in her heart, she felt it because he was there, with her. There was a bond between them, a bond that even five years of absence hadn't been able to destroy. They were meant to be...

Des nuits d'amour à ne plus finir
Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place
Mais en lui les chagrins s'effacent,
Heureux, heureux, à en mourir...

Ron was enjoying the dance with Hermione. He realized then that they had never danced together before. And there they were, in Paris of all places, the city of love, dancing to a French song he didn't even understand. He had already heard it before, and he remembered Hermione mentioning it in the cemetery... was it only the day before? Yes, it was the day before.

He had seen Hermione for the first time in five years two days before, in front of the Sacré Coeur. She had Apparated away, and he had looked for her everywhere, even on the top of the Eiffel Tower before finally finding her the next day in a little café in Montmartre he had entered by chance. She had turned out to be a waitress there. And she had agreed to meet him later at the Père Lachaise cemetery. He had told her everything about Eileen, and his cancelling the wedding with her. Hermione had run away once again, obviously blaming herself for Eileen's death, as he had been blaming himself for the past five years. He had Apparated in the Crypt of the Sacré Coeur, where he had seen Hermione, and had done some thinking before deciding to go to the café she worked in. There he had talked to Sophie Delannel, who had finally told him where Hermione was living. He had gone Rue Saint Vincent, had fallen asleep on her bed, and the next thing he knew, she was there kissing him.