“Arse?” Ron says slowly as he looks at the pamphlet Hermione has just handed him. She snatches it back and glares at him.

“A.R.S.E.,” she tells him sharply. “The Association for the Rehabilitation of Slytherin Enemies.”

“Hermione, that’s even worse than spew,” he mutters.

“S.P.E.W.,” she corrects matter-of-factly. “And it’s a good name. Well, not when people mispronounce it like you, but it stands for something quite good.”

“I don’t think they’ll appreciate being called enemies or want your help,” he points out helpfully. It's the wrong thing to say because now she’s off on a tangent about poor Slytherins who can’t think for themselves and had horribly biased upbringings, which makes no sense to him. Several Purebloods with that ‘awful upbringing’ fought right beside them during the war and didn’t hide out at one of Daddy’s properties to avoid confrontation or play both sides to keep their arses alive. Considering her latest project concerned a bunch of prejudiced gits, maybe arse was actually suitable, after all.

He glances at Hermione, who is still rambling in defense of her efforts, and has to grin. She might be horribly misguided in most of her projects, but she means well and really wants to make a difference. It’s one of those things that drives him crazy at the same time he loves it about her. Personally, he thinks most Slytherins are a step below House Elves, though. Of course, he keeps those opinions to himself because she’s got no qualms about hexing him- especially when she has A New Cause. Two months ago, it was the mistreatment of vampires within Wizarding society. That would still be her project, he figures, if one of her ‘poor defenseless undead-persons’ hadn’t tried to make her a midnight snack. Even now, though, she lobbies for recognition and new laws to let undead wizards inherit and have rights similar to those living, which just proves she might be brilliant but rarely learns from her mistakes. Now, it’s Slytherins. He figures in another month or two, it will be goblins or maybe werewolves again.

She’s done wonders for werewolves, though, and he’s proud of everything she does, even if he doesn’t always understand her reasoning. The Ministry hates her because she’s got the status of being a household name after the war so they have to acknowledge her. She’s also got major support by many whose lives she saved and by various magical creatures, both light and dark, who think she’s amazing. He agrees with them, of course, but sometimes wishes she’d put that much focus and energy into their relationship.

This is obviously a subject that she's passionate about because she's flushed and focused in the way she gets, and, once again, Ron's pretty sure he's second to The Cause of the Moment. This isn't always easy. Oh, he knows she loves him and he’s damn lucky that she’s chosen him, which makes him more than a little smug, but she works long hours and gets so involved with things that he sometimes feels neglected. When he whines about never seeing her, though, she always looks startled and then sheepish before making time for them, until the next cause rolls around and the cycle starts again.

Fortunately, the good times far outweigh the bad, and they’re very happy. The sex is brilliant, too, which makes it even better. Thinking about sex isn’t the right thing to do when she’s all flushed and passionate, he decides, because he’s not even listening to her now. Instead, he’s looking at her lips and ogling her tits while she describes her latest arse project in detail. She’s got great tits. They fill his hand and they’re soft and squishy with rose colored nipples that are extremely sensitive. He’ll never admit it, but he probably likes playing with them even more than playing Quidditch.

“So we’ll have one of them move in with us for rehabilitation and so we can teach them how to be more accepting of all backgrounds, regardless of blood,” she finishes with a pleased smile.

Ron looks up at her and blinks. “Huh?”

“Really, Ronald,” she drawls in the tone that says she’s either annoyed or about to shag him rotten, “haven’t you been listening to me at all or do my breasts distract you that much?”

She’s so bloody frustrating when she does that because now he’s not sure if she’s irritated that he wasn’t listening or aroused that he was leering at her tits. One will lead to him a smack upside the back of the head while the other will, hopefully, lead to wild crazy shagging. He finally says, “I was listening but your tits are very distracting.”

He knows he’s not safe yet when The Brow arches. It’s a subtle action but it means ‘You’re lying and I know it but let’s see if you can convince me otherwise’. “Good. Then that means you have no objection to us participating in the experiment,” she says.

“Uh, right. No objections,” he tells her. For one thing, there are very few times that he’d ever tell her no. For another, he has no bloody idea what she’s talking about.

“That’s wonderful,” she declares with a smile. “I’ll let Andromeda know that we’re willing to take in a Slytherin for the rehabilitation process, then. We can clean up the guest room for whomever it is so they’ll be comfortable while they live here.”

“Wait a minute,” he protests as things start to make sense. “You want us to have one of them move in here? Like, live here?”

“I thought you were listening,” she challenges with that slight ‘Gotcha’ smirk that makes his cock throb.

“Yeah, well, you must have said that when I was staring at your tits,” he mumbles and frowns. “I don’t want some stranger living with us, especially not some arse participant.”

“A.R.S.E., Ron,” she snaps. She didn’t even remember to use his full name during Angry Mode, which makes him realize he’d better shut up or risk sleeping on the sofa.

“For how long?” he grumbles, wondering if great sex is really worth it. He looks at her and knows that she’s worth it, regardless. Fuck, he’s such a woman.

“Our estimation is six weeks, give or take a week,” she informs him. “It’s still in the planning stages, of course, which is why we need a few test subjects to analyze and determine the best possibly strategy for rehabilitation and reintegration into society.”

“You’re scary sometimes,” he tells her, not sure if he means it as a compliment or not right now. “Who is participating in this thing?”

“We have a list of names from the Ministry that I’ve managed to obtain,” she says with just a hint of ‘Fuck you, Ministry’ in her voice. “They’re all people who were linked to possible Death Eater activity but the Aurors either didn’t have any evidence or they were proven to not actually be in that deep, but they do have files and that limits their current opportunities within the Wizarding world. We hope to help them repair the damage their previous leanings caused because they can’t help how they were raised. They never had a real chance to make up their minds, you know?”

“I think that’s total bollocks,” he mutters. “What if this project fails and you find out they’re really a bunch of prejudiced bastards who wish you were dead instead of tainting their world?”

“It won’t fail,” she says stubbornly before she shrugs. “If they are beyond rehabilitation, then their records will remain as is and will be documented to show that they’ve failed to complete the A.R.S.E. program.”

“I don’t want that Zabini bloke,” he tells her firmly. “I don’t like the way the prat looks at you.”

“I have no say in the person we get assigned if we participate. However, I can tell Andromeda, who is in charge of the Slytherin recruitment, that you’d prefer not having Zabini, if he’s even participating.”

“Good. He’s a smug git,” Ron says. “So, when do we get our houseguest?”

She smiles brilliantly and he suddenly has a lap full of Hermione as she kisses him. “Thank you, Ron,” she murmurs as she rolls her hips and does this thing with her tongue that makes him forget what they’re even talking about. “It will be fun. You’ll see.”

Ron snorts at her words. Fun? He somehow doubts that. In fact, as she kisses her way down his neck, he can’t help but think that this is going to be Big Trouble.

“You could try to be more excited about this.”

Ron is tempted to turn up the WWN so he can claim that he couldn’t hear her over the broadcast of Puddlemere versus the Tornadoes, but he doesn’t think he’ll get away with it so he’s stuck. Instead, he glances up from the Chudley Cannon Monthly Fanclub Newsletter and gives her a big, fake smile. “I am just so excited!”

“You’re a prat,” she mutters as she scowls at him. Her hair is pulled back into what he suspects is supposed to be a tidy braid, but there are bits and pieces of hair sticking out so it just makes her look rather endearing. She’s wearing her reading glasses and they’re perched on the tip of her nose, which makes him itch to lean forward and push them up.

Her skirt and blouse is one of her best work outfits, which makes him grumble because he thinks this entire project is a waste of time and he’s slightly jealous of the effort she’s making. He doesn’t understand why she cares what sort of impression she makes on some arse participant. He’s grown to like the ridiculous name over the last three weeks because it irritates her every time he asks when the arse is coming, which leads to bickering and really great shagging. Besides, he’s known that annoying Hermione makes her cheeks flush in a really attractive way since he was thirteen so he can’t possibly ignore the opportunity to do so when it arises.

“Thought I was a git,” he mutters as he leans back against the sofa and gives her a stubborn look.

She sticks her tongue out at him before she blinks and frowns at her immature behavior. He smiles smugly because he loves when he can get to her and make her forget herself. It’s one of the main ways he can tell she fancies him, after all, and it’s like confirmation of her feelings every time she slips. While he’s confident about their relationship and doesn’t think he’ll ever lose her, he likes to know she still wants him. She sniffs and raises her chin, which he finds sexy as fuck even if she is acting like a prissy swot. He’s got the scratches on his back from last night, which is proof she’s got a wild side to her.

He wiggles his eyebrows at her and leers as he ogles her tits before he blows her an exaggerated kiss. The wireless is droning on about Puddlemere’s season, but he doesn’t pay any attention. Hermione is doing her best not to look at him, and he can see the faint pink on her cheeks as she becomes more annoyed at his antics. To Hermione, annoyance is arousal, so he shifts and spreads his legs slightly.

He nearly jumps to his feet to do a little victory dance when her gaze flickers to his crotch and she licks her lips when she notices that he’s half-hard. He’s about to make some crass comment, because he knows how much she gets off on that even if she denies it, but the bloody ring of the doorbell interrupts what could very well have been great bickering-sex. “I’ll get it,” he offers as he makes a face and gets to his feet.

“Sit down, Ron,” she murmurs as she stands. She gives him a searing kiss that leaves him gaping at her and then smirks. “We’ll finish this later.”

“Uh, right,” he manages to say as he makes sure his T-shirt covers up the front of his trousers. He doesn’t want Mrs. Tonks to see him walking around with a stiffy, even one that’s only halfway there.

Instead of sitting, he follows Hermione to the door and gets a proper glare ready for whatever arse they’ve given them for the next six weeks. If it’s that Zabini bastard, he’ll throw the biggest fit ever, he vows. He sees Mrs. Tonks and nods a greeting at her, giving her a slight smile before his Glare of Keep Out of My Way is back in place. Hermione hits his belly hard enough to make him gasp, which ruins the entire effect of his glare. Before he can mutter about spankings, a petite brunette steps out from behind Mrs. Tonks.

Hermione’s welcoming smile fades but she soon forces it back. “Hello, Andromeda,” she says politely.

“What, don’t I get a greeting, Granger?” a smug voice drawls in a low, husky tone that Ron doesn’t think fits the slim woman who utters it.

Ron glances at Hermione and sees the nerve in her right cheek twitch, which makes him take a step closer and grab her hand before she can do something she might regret. Personally, he’s so glad that it’s not ‘Look at how handsome and sexy I am’ Zabini that he doesn’t really care who they’ve got, but he knows that it’s probably one of the worst participants, in Hermione’s opinion.

“Oh look,” she says with a smirk. “Weasley to the rescue. Isn’t that just so sickeningly sweet?”

“Miss Parkinson,” Andromeda Tonks says in a warning tone that rivals Ron’s mum on a really bad day. Pansy straightens up and frowns, but doesn’t say anything else. Ron wonders if Andromeda would teach him that tone since it seems to work so well.

“Good afternoon, Miss Parkinson,” Hermione finally says. Ron figures it’s taken her this long to get over the impulse to hex the shite out of the smug Slytherin. He feels like saying ‘I told you so’ but figures she’d not have the same hesitation at hexing him and he’s quite fond of his bits where they are, thank you very much.

She squeezes Ron’s hand tight before she lets go and becomes a gracious hostess, ushering Mrs. Tonks and Parkinson inside to go over the details of the experiment. Ron gives Parkinson a Look that he’s pleased to see makes her scowl and decides that this might not be so bad after all. Making Parkinson’s life a living hell for six weeks could be be pretty bloody fun.

A smack to the back of his head makes him turn to frown at Hermione. She gives him her own Look, which puts his to shame, and he rolls his eyes, which makes her smile slightly. He arches a brow and grins as he cocks his head to the side, receiving a slight nod from her, which lets him know that she’s quite aware that he could say ‘I told you so’. Content with that victory, and the thought of finishing what they’d started before Parkinson the arse arrived, he smiles and sits down, ogling her tits while she starts going over the program information.

He glances up and frowns when he sees that Parkinson’s gaze is certainly not on the detailed contract she has to sign. Instead, it looks almost as if she’s ogling Hermione’s tits, too, which makes him wonder if she’s really looking or if he’s so obsessed with her tits that he thinks everyone is appreciating them or if he’s imagining things. When he looks back at Parkinson, she looks bored and is examining scarlet colored fingernails. He gives her a suspicious look, just in case, before scooting closer to Hermione and moving so that he can see the contract, which is actually just a good excuse to look down the front of her shirt.

Parkinson is better than Zabini, he decides reluctantly, and probably better than any other arse around. Hermione’s excitement about the project has come back and she’s chattering excitedly about boring paperwork and programs. For her, he can deal with this. After all, how much trouble could really happen in just six weeks?

There is tension in the air when Ron gets home from work. One sweeping glance around the flat finds Hermione cooking, and Parkinson flipping through a magazine while sitting on the sofa. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they’ve been fighting again. Well, fighting he would understand. Instead, they’ve got this warped glaring and silence thing that’s even worse than fighting. Hermione tries to keep from losing her temper while Parkinson does everything in her power to make her.

It’s been ten days now since Hermione’s project started. Ron has heard from Harry nearly every day about what a smug prat Zabini is and how he can’t stand him. He also hears how Harry can’t believe he let Hermione talk him into this ridiculous project along with a lot more cursing and muttering that has Harry far more passionate and lively than he’s been since the war. Ron’s had suspicions about Harry in regards to the reason the thing with Ginny didn’t work and he doesn’t care if Harry likes blokes since, really, Harry’s happiness is all that matters, but he can’t help wondering if having an arse participant like Zabini might not cause Harry to finally admit some things it seems he’s hiding from.

Unfortunately, they’re having even more trouble than Harry. Zabini, at least, seems to be polite and civil. Parkinson is neither. She flounces around as if she owns their flat, treats Hermione like a House Elf and usually just ignores him. He fails to see how this project is supposed to help anything if the arses are all as reluctant as Parkinson to participate in anything productive.

When he enters the flat, Parkinson looks up and dismisses him with a snort before she looks back at her magazine. He resists the urge to hex her, but it’s becoming more difficult to do so as she keeps annoying Hermione. If she actually hurts his wife, she’s going to regret it, contract or not. He knows Hermione can take care of herself and would resent his urge to protect her from evil arse Slytherins, but he refuses to see her hurt by snide comments and rude words.

“Parkinson,” he greets with a grimace before he goes into the kitchen. He moves behind Hermione and wraps his arms around her waist. She sighs and leans back against him, which gives him the perfect angle to nuzzle her neck.

“Stop that,” she mutters in her ‘Don’t really listen to me because I like it’ voice. “I’m trying to cook.”

“I see that,” he says before he nibbles on her shoulder. He hears her soft laugh and feels thrilled that he’s managed to distract her from the latest argument between her and Parkinson. He hates seeing her so tense, especially when he’s not the cause, and can’t help being proud when he can be somewhat sensitive to what she needs while also copping a feel or two.

When she wiggles her arse against him, he can’t help but grin. The one positive of this entire experience is the shagging, without a doubt. She slaps his hand away when he tries to grope her tit, but she glances up and gives him a look that definitely says they’ll be finishing this later.

“How was work?” she asks as she continues making salad. He stays where he is since she didn’t tell him to no touching and tells her about his day. She snickers when he tells her about Harry’s latest mutterings about Zabini and he wonders, for a moment, if she had a hand in matching those two up as participants even if Mrs. Tonks and a few others were in charge of it.

“How was your day?” he asks when he’s done making her laugh with impressions of Harry’s ‘and he hates clothes, which is just bloody ridiculous, and he’s going to catch a cold with all that nudity and he’s such a smug git that I want to hex him rotten’ mutterings regarding his current situation.

She makes a disgusted noise before she tells him about some Ministry prat who refuses to give her a meeting regarding a new law she’s trying to get considered about werewolves and equal wages and a bunch of other big words that confuse him. She’s passionate about it, though, and he doubts it’ll be long before the Ministry has to acknowledge her and listen.

He knows she rarely uses her name or the fact that she’s considered nearly as much of a hero as Harry, but she has no issues with bringing that out and using the hint of negative public opinion against the Ministry if they refuse to fairly consider things. Ron’s not blinded by love enough to not know that she can be ruthless and cunning in the right circumstances. In fact, it’s yet another part of her that he loves.

After she tells him about work, he starts to help her cook because she’s moved on to making spaghetti. She starts on the meat and sauce while he boils the pasta. He gets in some gropes and hugs in between, mostly because he’s not going to ignore the opportunity as well as the fact that it makes her fight a smile when she tries to glare at him.

As the topic turns to Parkinson, she makes a face and says that the program doesn’t seem to be as successful as she hoped. To hear Hermione admit that she might be wrong stuns him slightly, as she’s reluctant to do that even now in regards to the whole spew thing, but she quickly adds that she’s not given up the idea, which sounds more like her.
When the food reaches the point where they just have to wait for it to finish cooking, Ron manages to steal a kiss or five. He doesn’t bother counting as he presses her up against the counter and daringly moves his hand beneath her shirt. She moans into the kiss when his fingers squeeze her tit, but she doesn’t slap his hand away. The randy voice in his head that would be quite happy if he never did anything other than shag yells ‘Score’ at that point, which means he has to try something else just to see how far he can get before she stops him.

He pushes her bra up over her tit and rubs her nipple with his thumb as he moves his leg between hers. She pushes against him and he whines when he feels her fingernails against his lower back. He’s tempted to lift her skirt and shag her right there on the counter, but he figures that’s pushing his luck. However, when she bites his lip and presses her thigh against his cock, he decides that daring is good. He’s about to move his hand under her skirt to see how wet she is, as that is definitely a factor in moving from snogging to shagging, when he hears a noise.

“Wha?” he murmurs as he pulls back and glances over to the doorway. Parkinson is standing there with a flushed face and a slight scowl. For a moment, Ron thinks she might be aroused, but then she’s sneering and he realizes he must be wrong.

“I think I’ve lost my appetite,” she drawls in that annoying smug tone that’s become familiar in the last ten days.

Hermione runs her hand through her now messy hair and makes a face before glancing coolly at Parkinson. “Fine. You don’t have to eat,” she says simply in the tone that he knows will probably be used when they have kids who are as stubborn as they both are and try to whine about not eating vegetables. They’re not thinking about having kids yet, but he knows that voice will be heard more often in a few years.

“If you are going to eat, you can set the table,” Ron adds firmly. He might have agreed to participate in the arse program, but he’s not about to have Parkinson treat him or Hermione like servants. It’s been obvious over the last few days that she hates having to actually do something but she reluctantly does since she realized they weren’t as docile as she first seemed to think.

Parkinson has been glaring since Hermione refused to argue with her and now looks like she might throw a tanty. In fact, Ron expects her to stomp her feet and yell when she makes that face because it reminds him of Ginny when she was an ickle brat. Well, she’s still a brat but she’s not so ickle anymore. Parkinson gives him a dirty look before she glances at Hermione and frowns.

When her gaze lingers on Hermione’s tits and her hard nipples, Ron arches a brow and leans against the counter. Now that was definitely something he didn’t imagine, which means Parkinson just ogled his wife’s tits. Bloody hell. Hermione looks at him and smiles before she nods at the pasta in a ‘get back to work’ sort of way.

He blinks at her and then walks to the stove, noticing that Parkinson has grudgingly opened a cabinet and is removing plates and glasses. She’s back to scowling in that annoying pouting way so he decides that it’s possible he misinterpreted the look. However, considering other things he’s noticed during the last week and a half, since he’s not nearly as unobservant as most people seem to think, he can’t help but think he just might be right.

“The entire project is a failure, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not,” Ron says as he closes his magazine and looks up at Hermione. She’s leaning against the doorway to their bedroom and looks sad, which makes him try to think of ways to make her smile. He hates when she’s sad and feels horrible any time she cries, especially if he’s the cause, which doesn’t happen as often now as it once did. She’s not crying, but she’s definitely bordering on defeat.

She snorts and walks into the bedroom. “It is,” she denies as she crawls up the bed to where he's sitting and curls up in his lap. Her breath is warm against his throat as she sighs. “It’s a total disaster. The program is a failure and I’m a failure. I should have known better than to try to help a bunch of prejudiced narrow-minded twats.”

He arches a brow at the last word but is wise enough not to congratulate her on saying something nearly vulgar. It’s not a good time to tease her about her lack of cursing, though he thinks bastards is a more appropriate word. “It’s not a disaster, Hermione,” he tells her confidently as he shifts her so he can cuddle. It’s not often he gets to show her that he can be sensitive so he’s going to enjoy this chance. “We’ve just got a bad arse.”

“I really wish you’d stop saying it that way,” she grumbles but doesn’t correct him, for once. “Besides, I’m trying to wallow here, Ronald. You’re supposed to let me.”

“No, I’m supposed to support you no matter how crazy your ideas are and encourage you to try to make a difference because that’s something you love,” he corrects matter-of-factly.

“My ideas aren’t crazy,” she defends as she lightly smacks his chest with her palm. “They’re just innovative and people are too close minded to see the whole picture or refuse to believe that things can be better.”

“There’s my idealistic activist,” he teases before he kisses the top of her head.

“You can say I told you so,” she murmurs as she wiggles in his lap in a way that makes consoling her take second place to much naughtier thoughts. “After all, you predicted that A.R.S.E. would fail.”

“Hermione, stop wiggling,” he warns as he grabs her hip to keep her in place. “I’d ask what’s brought on this case of doubt and lack of confidence but I figure it’s Parkinson. What did she do now?”

“The program just isn’t working with her,” Hermione says. “It obviously isn’t developed well enough and there are factors that we didn’t take into consideration when it was created. She’s been here three weeks and is still rude, snide, and argumentative. While I don’t expect the program to change personalities, I had hoped that teaching them about Muggles and Muggleborns would make some difference. It’s just not, though.”

“Well, Harry said that Zabini is doing better, right? And the other test groups aren’t having any major issues, are they?” he points out. He knows Hermione well enough to know that him simply saying ‘it’s fine’ won’t mean a bloody thing. She needs facts and logic the majority of the time.

She snickers. “Harry is shagging Zabini, or the other way around, so I don’t think that qualifies.”

“Really?” Ron asks eagerly. He’s had his suspicions but Harry’s pretty good at that secretive thing when he wants to be so he’s not been certain.

“I think so,” she tells him. “Harry’s been acting odd recently and he’s looked well shagged the last two times I’ve met him for lunch so I’d think it’s a distinct possibility. Don’t say a word to him, Ronald Weasley, or I’ll make you sleep on the sofa for a month.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he denies without any real sincerity. Teasing Harry, and letting him know he’s cool about the bloke thing, versus no shagging or snuggles for a month isn’t much of a comparison, though, so he scowls at not being able to tease. “If he tells me, however, it’s fair game.”

“You’re such a child sometimes,” she accuses in that indulgent ‘but you’re still cute anyway’ voice that makes him grin smugly.

“Regardless of shagging, the other groups aren’t having any problems so that means it’s not a failure,” he reminds her. “And I don’t want to hear anymore slurs against my wife. She’s gorgeous and brilliant and not a failure at all.”

Hermione raises her head and smiles at him, the special smile that she only shows to him when she gets emotional because she’s not that great at talking about emotions. She kisses him and wiggles in a deliberate way before she whispers, “I love you.”

“Of course you do,” he whispers back. “But I love you more.”

“Hmph,” she says before she shifts so that she’s straddling him. She kisses him more thoroughly before she licks her way down his throat. Ron bites his lip when she sucks on his nipple and he bucks up so she can feel his erection through the thin cotton of his pajama bottoms. She gives him a wickedly innocent look and smirks. “Is that for me?”

“What do you think?” he asks dryly as he leans up to kiss her neck. She’s wearing too many clothes, he decides, and that really needs to be taken care of. Fortunately, he’s quite good at taking care of things. He pushes her T-shirt over her head and then kisses his way down to her tits. “I love your tits.”

“No, really?” She laughs in a throaty way that makes his cock twitch happily. He ignores her, somewhat, and unclasps her bra so he can get to bare skin. He sits back and simply admires her tits for a moment of reverent silence. She’s breathing heavily and they’re rising and falling in an almost hypnotic way. She snaps her fingers suddenly and then laughs when he blinks up at her. “Silly boy.”

“’s your fault for having such great tits,” he tells her before he licks one perfect nipple. He loves that the left tit is slightly bigger than the right because it gives him a great reason to squeeze them for comparison. While he can accept that Harry prefers blokes, Ron doesn’t know how he can give up tits like that. They’re one of his favorite things, though he’d not actually want them himself, and he could spend hours licking and sucking and nuzzling them. Fortunately, Hermione’s got sensitive nipples and has even come a few times just from having them sucked in the right way. He does love trying to learn the right way.

When she pulls back, he frowns but not for long when he sees that she’s wiggling out of her shorts. She’s wearing the skimpy red knickers that make her legs look even longer and barely cover the patch of brown curls above her cunt. He arches off the bed and pushes his pajama bottoms past his hips and then manages to get out of them so he’s naked and ready for her.

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she drawls as she looks him over, licking her lips when she sees his erection.

“Nope, just hopeful,” he says with a waggle of his eyebrows as he reaches down to stroke his cock. She grins and he’s pleased to see that her earlier melancholy has faded for now. Her tits jiggle as she moves back onto the bed and he groans when she licks his cock. He reaches down and tangles his fingers in her long hair as she begins to suck him, loving the feel of her tongue against him. “Fuck, yeah.”

A movement from the corner of his eyes distracts him from the sight of her lips around his cock as her head moves up and down. He glances up and his eyes widen as he notices the open door. She forgot to close it when she came in earlier, probably because she didn’t plan for them to shag. His gaze narrows as he looks into the flat, noticing that the lights have been turned out since she first came into the bedroom. Then there’s another movement and he puts two and two together pretty easily.

Parkinson is watching them. Instead of being disgusted, as he thinks he should be, his cock twitches even more and he groans softly. Since his revelation regarding her ogling of Hermione’s tits last week, he’s noticed more ogling in between the sniping and rudeness. He’s pretty sure that Parkinson wants Hermione, which he hates to admit has been the fodder for several early morning wanks in the shower. He is a man, after all, and the thought of two women together has to be right up there with an ability to have multiple orgasms in terms of fantasies. Besides, Hermione has admitted to a one time sexual experience with Parvati Patil during sixth year and he’d be a liar if he said that thought hadn’t turned him on.

True, Parkinson is a rude bitch and not as pretty as Parvati, but she’s got decent tits and a good mouth that he thinks would probably look pretty fucking amazing against Hermione’s cunt. It’s just a fantasy, of course, and he has dozens of those. Besides, he doesn’t want a man to join them so it’s not fair for him to tell Hermione that he’d love if they had a woman join them some time, whether it be Parvati or Parkinson or that cute blonde from the pub that is always trying to look down Hermione’s blouse. Not that he’s given such an idea any real thought or anything. Right.

The feel of a tongue against his balls pulls him from his thoughts. He looks down and watches Hermione, surprisingly aroused at the thought that Parkinson is watching them. He’s torn, though, because it’s not fair to Hermione that she’s being watched without her knowledge. If she finds out and realizes he knew, well, the sofa will become his new best friend. That means he has to tell her.

“Come here,” he urges as he lightly pulls on her hair. She smiles and crawls up his body, rubbing the wet crotch of her knickers against his cock as she kisses him. He sucks her tongue and runs his hands over her back, squeezing her arse and moving his fingers beneath the material. He moves his lips across her jaw until he reaches her ear. “We’re being watched.”

She stills for a moment and he hears her soft gasp. He nibbles on her ear and she slowly relaxes. “Are we?” she whispers against his ear in a voice that makes his cock throb. Oh bloody hell. She’s not going to stop.

“Yeah,” he murmurs as his fingers slide along the cleft of her arse. “Want me to shut the door?”

“No,” she moans against his jaw. “She wants a show? Let’s give her a show.”

“Fuck,” he hisses as she bites his neck in a way that she knows makes him lose control. God, he loves this woman.

Hermione kisses him again before she moves until her back is against his chest. Parkinson now has a view of her tits, and Ron has an urge to cover them up since he feels rather possessive of them. However, the knowledge that she’s lurking by the doorway with her hand in her knickers makes him more willing to share. He feels absolutely generous right now, in fact.

He reaches up to play with her tits as she pulls her knickers off. Once they’re gone, he spreads her legs on either side of his and moves his hand down to stroke her cunt. She’s wet and pushes against his hand as he teases her. Parkinson has an excellent view of her cunt and tits now so Ron does his best to make the show good. He eases two fingers into Hermione as he nibbles her shoulder and tugs on her nipple in the way that causes her to make that fantastic little whimpering moan that she can’t control when she’s really excited.

By the time she sinks down onto his cock, it takes all his control not to come like some schoolboy. This is definitely one of the hottest things they’ve done, and Hermione seems to think so, too, because she’s so fucking wet that he slides in easily. She begins to bounce up and down as she rides him. He squeezes her tits and plays with her nipples while he licks her spine, finding the spot on her shoulderblade that makes her whine.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long before he’s arching off the bed and coming with a low grunt. She keeps riding him as he spills inside her, her muscles squeezing him until he’s spent. Before she can come, he urges her off of him and pushes her back against the bed. Her head is near the foot of the bed and she watches him with that hungry look that makes him feel as if he’s the sexiest man in the world.

He spreads her legs and lowers his head to her cunt. There was a time when the thought of lapping up his own come was pretty gross. Now, though, he knows how she gets off on it and he doesn’t mind because it makes her come hard. He licks her cunt, curling his tongue and thrusting it inside her as he focuses on her. He doesn't have to see her face to know that she looks fucking amazing when she’s sweaty and flushed and biting her lip to keep from cursing. That's an image he memorized years ago. He keeps licking her, alternating between lapping at her and thrusting his tongue into her. It isn’t very long before she’s writhing on the bed, squeezing her tits and whimpering with need, and then she tenses and shudders as she comes.

When she finally grips his shaggy hair and tugs, he raises his head and crawls up her body so he can kiss her. He pulls back and brushes her hair away from her sweaty face, smiling as he murmurs, “That was fucking amazing.”

“Mmm,” is the only response he receives as she returns his smile and snuggles closer.

It’s then that he remembers Parkinson. He glances up at the doorway and sees her more clearly from this angle. Her shirt is pushed up over decent tits, though not as perfect as Hermione’s, and her hand is, indeed, in her knickers. He slowly grins and winks at her, letting her know she’s been caught, before he uses wandless magic to shut the door.

“Pick up the socks.”

“No.”

“I’m not going to ask you again, Parkinson.”

“You didn’t ask, Granger. You told me.”

“I want the socks picked up and put in your room. Now.”

Ron stops in the kitchen doorway to look from one to the other. Hermione is practically seething. Her face is flushed and her hair is in wild disarray and she’s got the look that she gets right before she attacks. He hasn’t seen it very often aimed in his direction, thankfully, but he still finds it an odd combination of scary and sexy. Parkinson is facing her and holding her chin at a stubborn angle. Her pale cheeks are also flushed but her dark hair falls sleekly to her shoulders.

Everything goes quiet as they face off. It feels like the last week has led to this point. Since they’d caught Parkinson watching them, it's become a game to be more daring and open about something they usually keep private except for the urgent shags at the Burrow, which were mostly fun because they might get caught. Now, they want to get caught and it’s been some of the best sex ever.

And Parkinson seems to like catching them. She never says a word, but they know she’s watching and wanking. The tension has been building since that night, but Ron’s not stupid enough to not realize it actually started from the moment Mrs. Tonks brought Parkinson to their flat. Hermione’s rather cute with her obliviousness to the fact that it’s her that Parkinson is watching, murmuring things about being jealous of the attention he’s getting and making sure Parkinson knows that he belongs to her.

Since it means she’s been even more forceful than usual and has forgotten some of her inhibitions, he’s all for remaining mute on the topic. After all, she’s the smart one so who is he to point out something that should be relatively obvious? At least, that’s what he tells himself to support his decision not to point out that Parkinson is more into tits than cock.

It would amuse him that everything seemed ready to come to a head over a pair of socks, but he’s too busy watching the fireworks to find much of anything humorous right now. He’s a bit worried about what might happen, if he’s truly honest. Not about losing Hermione to Parkinson or anything foolish like that. He’s insecure about some things, yeah, but he’s confident about their feelings and their marriage. If anything, they’re even closer now since this arse thing started.

No, he’s anxious over Hermione’s reaction to the realization that she’s the one Parkinson wants and the fact that he’s not nearly as jealous of the idea as he probably should be since they’re married and a man shouldn’t wank in the shower at thoughts of someone else shagging his wife while he watches. That’s just so many kinds of wrong, he figures. Plus, the idea of Hermione being with another man does make him jealous. So not only is he an immoral pervert for thinking dirty thoughts of his wife with another woman, but he’s also a hypocritical one.

“Pick. Up. The. Socks.” Hermione’s firm and sharp voice disturbs his mental chastising of himself.

“No,” Parkinson says smugly before she sneers. “That’s the only thing Muggles are good for, after all.”

The sound of the slap is loud in their small flat. Hermione looks stunned as she lowers her hand, and, for a moment, he thinks she might cry. Parkinson’s cheek is pink and she’s gaping at Hermione in surprise. Ron starts forward, ready to wrap his arms protectively around Hermione because he knows she’s thinking her project is a failure and disgusted at herself for making things physical.

Before he can take more than a couple of steps, Parkinson reacts. Ron watches her move forward and kiss Hermione hard. It’s actually more erotic than he expected, maybe because anger can be such an aphrodisiac. Hermione is taller by a few inches and Parkinson is skinnier, lacking Hermione’s natural curves. It’s a contrast that he can’t look away from and he forgets to blink until Hermione pushes Parkinson away.

Hermione’s lips are swollen and she looks so confused that he almost smiles. Parkinson looks horrified at what she’s done but is clearly too surprised to make a run for her room yet. Hermione glances at him and he knows that it’s time to do something. They’ve talked a lot during the past week, quiet whispers as they admit to the naughtiest of things, so he knows that she enjoyed being with Parvati that night years ago just as he knows that she gets off when he talks dirty or at the thought of them being watched.

“Ron, I-“

Before she can say anything, he crosses the room and kisses her. If there’s one thing he’s learned over the years, it’s that kissing her is the best way to get her to be quiet. Fortunate, that. Once she’s kissing him back, he pulls away and looks at Parkinson. He supposes they need to call her Pansy if this is going to progress where he thinks it will, but Parkinson is a habit.

“It’s okay, Hermione,” he tells her as he walks behind her. He stares at Parkinson and smirks slightly. “So.”

“I won’t apologize,” she says defiantly. He decides that she’s prettier than he realized but, honestly, Hermione is the only woman he has any interest in when it comes to more than physical appreciation.

“For what?” Ron asks. “The rude insult or the kiss?”

“Neither,” she replies quickly, her pale eyes moving from him to a surprisingly silent Hermione and back again.

“Oh, I think you’ll apologize for the insult,” he muses as he begins to unbutton Hermione’s shirt. She starts to protest but he silences her with a squeeze of her tit. “You didn’t mean that, after all.”

“Fuck off,” she says with a slight snarl that brings to mind the comparisons he and Ron used to make about her and a pug dog. She’s grown into her face, fortunately, but she’s still got that snarling way about her.

“Ronald, what are you doing?” Hermione finally asks when he reaches the last two buttons on her shirt. He spreads her shirt open and eases it down her shoulders before he tosses it on the sofa. Parkinson is staring at Hermione’s tits as she licks her lips. He almost feels a kinship with her and idly thinks they could make a club in homage of Hermione’s tits.

“Consider it a new approach to your program,” he murmurs as he drags his fingers along the underside of her bra. “It’s called the reward system. She does something good and gets a reward.”

“I don’t think this is what they had in mind with that philosophy,” she argues, but he notices that she doesn’t try to cover herself. She’s always been bright so he has little doubt that she’s finally figured things out.

“You have to adapt things to suit your circumstances,” he informs her smugly before he looks back at Parkinson. “As I was saying, you’ll apologize for that remark.”

“No, I won’t,” she says less confidently than before. She’s curious, which means he’s got her.

“If you do, I’ll remove this scrap of cotton,” he muses as he brushes his finger over Hermione’s hardening nipple.

“Ron!” Hermione squeaks in a very adorable way. Before she can start spouting off about this being blackmail or morally wrong in some odd way that doesn’t make much sense, he squeezes her breasts and nibbles her neck. Any protests she plans to have made are forgotten as she moans at the dual stimulation.

And people say that he’s not sneaky.

Parkinson—Pansy, he corrects—arches a brow and seems to consider his suggestion. “I want more,” she tells him as if they’re negotiating a deal instead of an apology.

“You can lick them,” he proposes, which earns him an elbow to the gut from a trembling Hermione who seems to like the idea.

“Fine,” Pansy says with a slight smirk. She seems to get off on the idea that Hermione doesn’t have a say, which just goes to show how little she must trust people since Ron would never do anything like this if he didn’t know Hermione approved. She glances at Hermione and frowns. “I’m sorry about the Muggle comment. I only said it because I knew it would make you angry.”

“What do you say, baby?” he asks Hermione as he moves his hands to the clasp of her bra. He presses his erection against her arse and licks the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Apology accepted?”

“Yes,” she hisses as she pushes her arse back against him.

Ron unfastens her bra and pushes it down, watching her tits jiggle as she shifts against him. He glances at Pansy and grins. “They’re great, aren’t they?” he asks as he plays with them. “Well, you gonna lick them or not?”

She snaps out of her daze and gives him a suspicious look as she walks closer. He’s impressed when she looks at Hermione and murmurs, “Is this okay?”

Hermione nods. “Yes,” she says simply, which is all Pansy seems to need.

She leans forward and licks Hermione’s nipple, sucking it into her mouth as Ron continues to squeeze her tits. Hermione moans and her head falls back against his chest as Pansy sucks hard, making a soft noise that has his cock pushing against his trousers. She pushes his hands away and cups Hermione’s tits as she sucks and licks and bites until Hermione is making soft breathy whines.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he watches and moves his hands beneath Hermione’s skirt. “Do you like that, Hermione? You like having her suck your pretty tits and feeling her tongue against your nipples?”

“God, yes,” Hermione moans as she reaches her arm back so her fingers can move into his hair. “It feels good.”

“Think you should return the favor,” he says as he slides his hand along her thigh to lightly stroke the damp crotch of her knickers. “Would you like to suck her tits while I watch?” Her moan is enough of a reply for him. He looks at Pansy and smirks. “You heard my wife.”

Pansy licks her lips and hurriedly pulls her shirt over her head. She’s not wearing a bra so her tits bounce as she lowers her arms. They’re not that big but they’re perky and her nipples are large and dark. He groans when Hermione reaches out and hesitantly touches them. He’s tempted to pinch himself to see if he’s just dreaming, but, if he is, he doesn’t want to wake up yet. Hermione squeezes Pansy’s tits and she leans forward to suck a nipple, which causes her arse to rub against his cock.

“Oh God,” Pansy moans as Hermione’s tongue curls around her nipple and she starts to suck harder. Ron knows what she’s experiencing and his cock twitches in memory of many an amazing blow job.

“Do you want more?” he asks Pansy as Hermione turns her attention to the other tit. “Do you want to kneel down and lick her wet cunt? Spread her wide open and lick her from arse to clit until she’s begging to come?”

“I don’t beg,” Hermione grumbles as she glares at him over her shoulder, a tit in each hand. He grins at her and blows her a kiss, which makes her stick her tongue out at him.

“Hmm…maybe we can find a better use for that tongue,” he suggests as he moves his hand into her knickers. “You want her to straddle your face, baby? She can lick your cunt, get you nice and wet for my cock, and ride your pretty little face until she screams.”

“Ron,” she whines before she nibbles on her bottom lip. “That sounds nice.”

“Nice?” Pansy repeats with a snort. “Your husband has a dirty mouth, Granger. There’s nothing ‘nice’ about that at all.”

“Yes, he does,” Hermione tells her smugly before she straightens up and kisses him. “We’ll do this your way, for now.”

Ron pulls her knickers down and kisses her arse cheek before he unfastens her skirt. It falls to the floor, leaving her naked. “Our bed or here?”

“Here,” she decides as she reaches over and unfastens Pansy’s skirt.

Any shyness she had felt seems to have left some time during the tit sucking because she’s now more forceful and focused. Pansy won’t know what’s hit her, he thinks as he pulls his shirt off and unfastens his jeans. He sits in his favorite chair and watches Hermione drag two fingers over Pansy’s cunt. He notices that she’s shaved, which is definitely different. It’s kinda hot but he prefers Hermione’s neat patch of curls.

He opens his mouth and sucks Hermione’s wet fingers when she offers them to him. Pansy makes a strangled groaning noise as he licks her arousal off Hermione’s fingers, and he smiles when she withdraws her hand. “Thanks for sharing,” he teases as he reaches down and starts to stroke his cock.

“Anytime,” she says with a saucy wink before she piles some pillows on the floor and utters a cushioning charm on the rug. She looks at Pansy and nods towards the floor. “Lie down. I like to be on top.”

Pansy looks as if she might refuse but soon decides being fucked is worth not arguing. He learned that one ages ago, too. Ron watches her lie down with her head near his feet. Hermione gets on top of her and lowers her head. He sees Pansy reach up and spread Hermione’s wet cunt and has a perfect view of her tongue as she begins to lap at his wife’s cunt.

There’s not much teasing, from Pansy, at least. Judging from the sounds she’s making, Hermione knows what she’s doing and isn’t above some teasing. Pansy licks and nibbles, the sound of slurping filling the air along with the sound of skin sliding against skin as he wanks. He leans over to see Hermione’s face buried between Pansy’s thighs while her tits rub against Pansy’s belly.

“Get me something, Ronald,” Hermione demands as she raises her head. Her face is flushed and her mouth is wet from Pansy’s arousal. Ron licks his lips and finally stops wanking to go to the bedroom to get her one of her toys. It’s thick, though not as thick as him, and should fill Pansy up nicely. He also gets an anal plug, which he hides in the pocket of his jeans when he goes back out.

“Here,” he says as he hands her the dildo. She leans up and licks his cock before she winks and begins to push the dildo into Pansy, who moans and bucks beneath her.

Ron walks around them until he’s back by Pansy’s head. He kneels down, his cock bobbing in front of him and demanding attention. However, he knows he needs to ignore it for now because he wants to make Hermione beg. After all, a challenge is a challenge. He lowers his head and licks her arse, feeling her stiffen in surprise before he hears the reluctant moan as his tongue presses inside her. She rarely lets him play with her arse. Not because she doesn’t enjoy it, but because she’s got some ridiculous ideas that it’s dirty.

He figures shagging another woman beats it in terms of dirty, though, so he’s not above taking advantage of the situation. He licks her arse, using his finger and tongue to make her whimper. After awhile, he straightens up and just uses his fingers. When he feels a mouth on his cock, he jerks forward in surprise. He glances down and sees Pansy’s mouth full of his cock.

“He’s got a great cock, doesn’t he?” Hermione murmurs before she goes back to licking.

“Mmmm,” Pansy moans around his cock, which he’s not sure is agreement or not. It doesn’t really matter because the vibration is unbelievable.

Ron removes the plug from the pocket of his jeans and sucks it before he eases it into Hermione’s tight arse. She groans as he moves it back and forth until it’s firmly inside her. He slaps her arse lightly before he shifts and removes his cock from Pansy’s mouth. He’s still not sure how she managed to suck him considering their positions but he’s not about to ask or Hermione might stop to try to explain it using Arithmancy.

Instead, he rubs his cock along the cleft of Hermione’s arse while Pansy goes back to licking her cunt. “Do you want my cock?” he teases as he reaches under her to squeeze her tits. “Want me to fuck your cunt while she licks your clit? Such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

“I hate you,” she murmurs as she rides Pansy’s face. He grins and nips at her shoulder, watching her push the dildo in and out without magic, taking the ‘Doing Things the Muggle Way’ lesson seriously.

“Sure you do,” he agrees as he nuzzles her neck. “Want me to fuck you, baby? All you have to do is ask.”

“I’ll get you back,” she vows breathlessly.

“I’m counting on it,” he assures her before he straightens up. Pansy’s tongue is licking Hermione’s cunt as well as his balls, and he groans when she sucks hard.

“Fuck me, Ronald,” Hermione demands in a voice that is definitely more begging than bossy.

A triumphant smile crosses his lips as he moves and shifts until the position is possible. Then, he slides into her, buying himself inside her as she gasps. He begins to fuck her hard, knowing what she needs right now, and his eyes roll back when he feels Pansy’s tongue on her cunt and his cock while he moves in and out. Hermione must be matching the force of his thrusts because he can feel Pansy moving beneath them and hears her moaning.

He grips Hermione’s hips tight and enters her deeper, listening to the sound of skin against skin, and watching her arse clench around the plug. Pansy comes with a low keen that’s louder than he expects, and he hears Hermione slurping again as she licks up Pansy’s come. God, the knowledge of what they’re doing, the reality of them fucking a woman together, is too much. He reaches around her to squeeze her tit, twisting her nipple just so as he pounds into her.

When she tightens around him, he can’t keep from coming any longer. He grunts as he sinks deep inside her and spills. She comes with him, whimpering as she shudders in release. He finally pulls out of her and sits on the floor, panting as he pushes his sweaty hair away from his face. He watches Pansy lean up and suck his come from Hermione, which makes his cock twitch despite his having just come.

Hermione finally moves off Pansy and removes the arse plug before she crawls over to him. She curls up in his lap as she rests her head against his chest. She’s sweaty and smells like sex and looks worn out. Pansy rolls over onto her belly and watches them. Her face is wet and her hair no longer falls to her shoulders in a sleek curtain.

“You know, if you’d tried this method sooner, I might have been more willing to learn,” she says with a lazy smirk as she openly ogles both of them.

Hermione starts to laugh. “I don’t think this is going to be added to the program.”

Ron grins as he cuddles her. He looks at Pansy and winks. “Fortunately for you, Pansy, we’ve still got three weeks to rehabilitate you.”

End