4.3 | Astoria ✓

14 | 2006

A/N

Yes, this story is back! Huge apologies for the delay (due to, well, reasons). I've actually finished writing this story before I even posted it on wattpad, so rest assured that this story won't ever be abandoned. This is the THIRD TO LAST chapter, meaning after this, there are only two more to go. We're so close to the end!

So, totally random (or not so random) question, now that I've actually made Ron hot in Astoria...do you think I could do the same for Harry?

x Noelle

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SHE SNEEZES FOR the third time in five minutes. "Bloody dust bunnies," she mutters under her breath, and casts a wandless spell to dispel them from the back of the bookshelf.

Ron laughs. "You alright there?"

"When was the last time you cleaned your office?" She yanks out the last stack of books and drops them into the box. Of course, magic would make this whole process much easier. But she's made up her mind not to follow in the footsteps of her Slytherin friends. Pansy and Draco use magic for almost everything, and she sometimes wonders if they're even capable of functioning without a wand.

"Do you really want to know?" Ron asks.

"So, never?"

"Never." He grins unrepentantly at her from his corner of the room, then returns his attention to the task at hand. She's momentarily distracted by the way he's leaned over his desk to clear out the drawers. That gorgeous arse in those faded jeans...

A memory from long ago rises, unbidden, to her mind. Her fingers sliding along the curve of his arse, urging him deeper, faster, harder into her. Don't go there. She swallows hard and quickly looks away.

"You know, I really appreciate you helping me," he continues. " Are you sure your boss is okay with you being here?"

"It's fine, honestly. I work harder than anyone else in the Department, and he knows it. And you've already thanked me five times over. Six, counting this one."

"Fine, I'll stop thanking you and bring over takeout from that Italian place you love tonight."

She smiles. "That's more like it."

"You taped my wrestling show, right?"

"I knew your offer was too good to be true." She sighs in mock disappointment, and lowers one foot from the step ladder. "But yes, I did—oh!"

She chokes out a gasp as her foot misses the lower step. One moment she's perched on the step ladder. The next she's flailing, the box having slipped from her arms and her hands desperately scrambling for a hold on the ladder again. She doesn't manage to grab it.

But she does slow in mid-air. Strong arms catch her before her head hits the floor. And she catches a glimpse of the box in her peripheral—still intact and upright on the floor.

"Fuck, Astoria, what the hell?" Ron sets her right on her feet, but his arms don't move away. He twists her around so that she's facing him, and his blue eyes are wide with worry as he regards her. "Are you alright? Astoria!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," she murmurs, dazed from her almost fall. She clutches his elbows, aware only of his body heat pressed against her. "That was...really impressive."