Chapter Seventeen

Hermione shifted slightly, wincing at the pleasant ache between her legs—proof of how thoroughly he’d taken her. Ron noticed, his calloused thumb brushing her hipbone in apology. "Sorry," he murmured, though the smug curve of his mouth betrayed him.

She huffed a laugh, swatting his shoulder.

"Goodnight, Ron," she murmured, her fingers still tangled in his hair as his breath grew heavier against her skin.

Another year passes, two in total now, the Villa looks incredible, similar to a five star villa one would usually book for a holiday, the island was still providing food but even without it the little farm was coming along nicely, Hermione had even relented and allowed a small spot for the pink fruits they had jokingly began referring to 'Passion fruit' to grow for 'recreational use'.

Hermione still thought a lot about her family back home but she was in no doubt that after two years Harry and her kids would have settled into their new life without her hopefully. She herself had begun to use the conjured paper to re-write some of her favorite books growing up which helped pass the time as well.

They had managed after several failed attempts to create a small vessel for fishing, it wasn't anything incredible but it did at least stay afloat on the water, they had considered building upon for a way home but they still had no idea where they actually were or which direction to go, after not seeing a ship or plane for two years Hermione assumed the island had to be uncharted or at least not on any transport routes.

After a year the two lovers were still very passionate, despite the amount of times she allowed Ron to cum inside her during her safe days she had thankfully not gotten pregnant.

Hermione's hips moved with practiced ease, her body undulating as she rode Ron with a rhythm that spoke of years of intimacy. The familiar ache in her abdomen, a mix of pleasure and something deeper, stirred thoughts she'd been trying to ignore. At thirty-three, with around two decades of childbearing ahead, the idea of a new life growing inside her—Ron's child—was both thrilling and terrifying. Her mind drifted to the family she'd left behind, the sons who called another man father, but here, in this isolated paradise, the boundaries of her past life blurred. The villa, their sanctuary, seemed to whisper possibilities, its magic-infused walls bearing witness to their evolving love.

Ron’s hands tightened on Hermione’s hips, his calloused fingers pressing crescent moons into her soft skin as she rolled her body against his. His breath hitched when she clenched around him—deliberately, maddeningly—her inner muscles fluttering in slow pulses that dragged a ragged groan from his throat.

"Merlin, Hermione—" His hips jerked upward, driving deeper as she arched her back, her full breasts swaying with each movement. The flush spreading down her chest matched the fevered heat between them, sweat-slicked skin sliding as she rode him with slow, deliberate rolls of her hips.

Ron’s grip on her hips tightened as she rocked forward, her body taking him to the hilt with a breathy moan. His thumbs dug into the soft flesh of her waist, guiding her movements as she rolled her hips in slow, torturous circles—each drag of his thick length sending sparks up her spine.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice rough with need as his gaze raked over her flushed skin, the swell of her breasts bouncing with every rise and fall of her body. His cock twitched inside her, already throbbing again despite his last release barely an hour before.

Ron’s breath came in ragged bursts as Hermione’s body milked him with agonizing precision, her inner walls fluttering around his swollen length. His hips jerked upward instinctively, seeking deeper friction, but she pinned him with her thighs, controlling the pace with a smirk that made his cock twitch inside her.

“Still so ****,” she murmured, rolling her hips in a slow circle that dragged a broken groan from his throat. Her fingers trailed down her own stomach, teasing the place where their bodies joined before slipping lower to stroke herself in tight, practiced circles.

Her fingers worked in slow circles as she watched Ron’s jaw tighten, his hips twitching helplessly beneath her. The thought of his seed taking root—of her belly swelling with his child—sent a pulse of wet heat between her thighs. Safe days or not, she mused, rocking deeper onto him, would it really be so terrible?

Ron’s groan was raw as her walls fluttered around him, her body greedy even as she teased. “Fuck—Hermione, you’re killing me—” His hands slid up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples in a way that made her breath hitch.

Hermione’s breath caught as she gazed down at Ron—his freckled skin flushed, his blue eyes darkened with lust, his red hair damp with sweat. The thought flickered again, unbidden: What would our child look like? His strong jawline, her curls, those broad Weasley shoulders—she could almost picture a tiny version of them laughing in the surf, their shared magic sparking in bright, curious eyes.

Her hips stuttered at the image, and Ron groaned, his fingers digging into her thighs. “What’re you thinking about?” he rasped, thrusting up to meet her slow grind.

Hermione’s lips curled into a slow, teasing smile as she rocked her hips forward, dragging Ron’s cock against that sweet spot inside her that made her toes curl. “What makes you believe I’m thinking of anything?” she murmured, breath hitching as his thick length stretched her perfectly.

Ron’s hands slid up her waist, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts as he gave her a knowing look. “I know that look on your face,” he growled, voice rough with arousal.

Hermione allowed herself another moment to picture it—Ron's strong hands helping tiny fingers shape wet sand into castle walls, his laughter rumbling against her back as she nursed their child beneath the swaying palms. The fantasy burned brighter as she imagined his freckled nose nuzzling their baby’s cheek while he murmured chess strategies in that low, patient voice reserved only for teaching. Her thighs trembled around Ron’s hips at the thought of small hands clutching her robes, begging for one more story from the books she’d rewrite just for them.

Hermione's movements stilled abruptly, her body going rigid atop Ron as the fantasy crystallized in her mind with startling clarity. Her fingers paused their teasing circles, pressing almost painfully into her own flesh as her breath caught.

Ron's hands slid from her hips to cradle her waist, his thumbs stroking the dip of her pelvis. "Hermione?" His voice was rough but laced with concern, his hips stilling beneath her. "You okay?"

She blinked, the weight of his gaze pulling her back. The sunset painted his freckles gold, his brow furrowed as he searched her face.

Hermione's gaze softened as she looked down at Ron, her best friend, her partner, and now the man who had become her boyfriend in this isolated paradise. After two years together, she had come to love him as deeply as she loved Harry, a realization that filled her with both joy and guilt. Ron's rugged features, illuminated by the golden hues of the setting sun, stirred a mix of affection and desire within her. His strong hands, now gently cradling her waist, reminded her of the countless moments they had shared—moments that had blurred the lines between friendship and something far more intimate.

Hermione's breath hitched as she pressed her palms against Ron's sweat-slicked chest, feeling the rapid hammer of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. His pupils dilated as her lips parted—not for a kiss, but for words that would shatter their fragile reality.

"Let's have a baby."

Ron froze beneath her, his hips stuttering mid-thrust. The air between them crackled with tension, his grip on her waist tightening reflexively. His cock twitched inside her, a visceral reaction that made her gasp.

"What?" His voice was rough, disbelieving.

Hermione rolled her hips slowly, deliberately, her walls fluttering around him as she watched his resolve fracture. "You heard me," she whispered, her voice thick with need as her fingernails dug crescent moons into his chest. Ron's breath hitched—she felt the way his cock pulsed inside her, twitching against her inner walls as if trying to burrow deeper at the mere suggestion.

Ron’s breath came in ragged bursts, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as if she might vanish. The setting sun painted his freckled shoulders in molten gold, highlighting the tension in his corded forearms.

“You’re serious?” His voice was a wrecked whisper, his cock twitching inside her again, betraying his arousal even as his brow furrowed.

Ron’s breath hitched as Hermione rocked her hips in slow, deliberate circles, her walls fluttering around him in a way that made his vision blur. His fingers dug harder into her flesh, blunt nails leaving pink crescents on her waist as he fought the instinct to thrust up into her.

"Merlin—Hermione—" His voice cracked, his cock twitching violently inside her as his hips jerked of their own accord. The head scraped that sweet spot deep within her, drawing a gasp from her swollen lips.

She leaned down, her breasts brushing his chest, her breath hot against his mouth. "I want it," she whispered, dragging her teeth over his bottom lip.

Ron groaned as her teeth grazed his lip, his cock swelling impossibly harder inside her. His hands slid up her sweat-slicked back, fingers tangling in her wild curls as he dragged her mouth to his in a searing kiss.

"You're killing me," he panted against her lips, hips jerking upward in shallow, **** thrusts. The head of his cock nudged her cervix with each movement, his swollen length stretching her deliciously.

Hermione whimpered, rolling her hips in slow, sinuous circles, her swollen clit dragging against his coarse pubic hair. "I mean it," she breathed, tightening around him deliberately. "Fill me up, Ron. Let me feel you—"

Ron's hands tightened around her waist, his fingers digging deep into her flesh as he struggled to control the primal urge surging through him. His cock pulsed inside her, the head nudging her cervix with each shallow thrust, sending waves of pleasure mixed with a hint of pain through her. "Hermione, I... I don't know if I can pull out this time," he admitted, his voice strained, his breath hot against her shoulder.

Ron's grip tightened around Hermione's waist, his fingers pressing into her soft flesh as he struggled to process her words. "If you're joking, you need to get off me now," he rasped, his voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and raw desire. His cock pulsed inside her, the head nudging her cervix with each shallow thrust, sending waves of pleasure mixed with a hint of pain through her. Hermione's breath hitched as she rocked her hips in slow, deliberate circles, her walls fluttering around him in a way that made his vision blur.

Hermione didn't flinch at his warning. Instead, she lifted herself slightly, letting his cock slide nearly all the way out before sinking back down with a slow, deliberate roll of her hips that made them both gasp. "Do I feel like I'm joking?" she breathed, her inner walls fluttering around his thick length as she took him to the hilt again.

Ron's fingers dug deeper into her hips, his freckled skin flushed dark with arousal as he stared up at her. A bead of sweat trailed down his temple, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "Fuck—Hermione—" His cock twitched violently inside her, his hips jerking upward of their own accord as his control slipped.

"Get me pregnant, Ron," she cried out, the words he'd wanted to hear for nigh on fifteen years.