Written for Harmony & Co.'s Harmony at the Movies fest.
Prompt: Friends with Benefits (2011)
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Her lips moved along silently with the words that Mr. Darcy spoke. She had rented the movie what felt like a thousand times before Harry finally bought it for her, and since that day it kept permanent residence in her DVD player. She was nearly certain she would wear it out by the amount of times she'd played it, but he assured her that it wasn't like the VHS tapes she owned as a child.
'You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love…I love…I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on'
With a heavy sigh, she leaned back further into the couch, clutching her nearly empty bottle of butterbeer against her chest as she smiled.
"Merlin, this is such a load of shit." Harry's voice cut over the movie as he reached into the bowl of popcorn that was nestled between them to grab a handful. "They hated each other this entire bloody movie, and suddenly he loves her."
Hermione couldn't contain her eyeroll as she brought her bottle to her lips for a quick sip. "They did not spend the entire movie hating one another."
"Are you sure?" Harry said through a mouthful of popcorn.
"First off, you know I am. Secondly, you've seen this bloody movie before! More than once. Why are you just now bringing this up?" Hermione questioned as she pulled the popcorn bowl from his reach and set it in her lap triumphantly.
"Do you actually think I've paid attention the other times you put it on?" Harry questioned with a playful smirk. Scooting closer to her until their shoulders touched, he grabbed another handful of popcorn. "I only agreed to this crap—" He gestured to her telly. "—because you were sore after we left the bar."
"Oh gods, seriously?" Hermione snorted, her eyes rolling back once again at the mention of their gathering earlier at the Leaky with Ron and Ginny. "I wasn't sore."
Harry purposefully moved his eyes to examine the beer bottle in his lap, his thumbnail digging to the sodden label on the front. "Riiight."
"Oh, fine! I was sore," Hermione admitted. "But did you hear the way your ex-girlfriend said it?" Clearing her throat, Hermione did a dramatic flip of her hair, tossing her curls over her shoulder in her best Ginny impersonation. "You honestly still read Witch Weekly? It's clearly written by dunderheads. Last week they published an article about the two of you dating. Ha! Could you even imagine someone thinking that possible?" She repeated Ginny's words from earlier that evening, her voice uplifted in mockery.
Harry tried to hide his smile in the neck of his beer bottle, but when Hermione did another sweep of her hair, his head fell back on the couch as he let loose a full belly laugh. "Can you please do that in front of her? I would pay good money to see her reaction."
"Absolutely not," Hermione laughed, bringing her bottle to her lips, and she took another small sip before she leaned back into the couch, crossing her arms over her bust. "I just don't understand what's so unbelievable about it. I'm an eligible witch. Is it really so hard to believe that someone might be interested in me?"
"I don't think it's that you're not attractive or eligible, but rather that it would be me who was courting you," Harry pointed out, tipping his bottle between the two of them to punctuate his words.
"What? You don't think I'm fit?" Hermione questioned, cocking a brow at him skeptically. Sure, they had been friends for over half their lives by now, and she highly doubted he had ever so much as thought about her in that manner, but even he had to admit she wasn't unattractive, right? She worked out, ate well, washed her face every bloody night. She was far from the type of witch to use beauty spells, but she did care about her appearance.
Harry looked over to Hermione, his brows nearly disappearing under his untidy black fringe. Merlin's bollocks, did she really just ask him if he thought she was fit? "I'm not answering that," he said quickly, lifting his bottle to his lips to drain the last of his beer. It wasn't that he didn't find her attractive. Of course, he thought she was fit! He was a twenty-six year old man after all. But fuck if he was going to admit it.
"Harry!" Hermione's frown deepened.
"Just ignore her, 'Mione." Harry leaned forward, setting his empty beer bottle on the table before he leaned back to settle into the couch, his hands folding over his stomach as he kicked up his feet to rest on her coffee table.
While she knew she could force him to answer if she really pressed, she figured his reluctance might be for the best. "Well it's rather hard you know," she began, picking out a couple pieces of popcorn from the bowl in her lap and she popped them into her mouth between words. "Flaming red hair, big mouth. I'm really starting to think it must be a family trait for every Weasley to be as ostentatious as possible."
Harry snorted, because while she was obviously just voicing her frustration, she was absolutely bloody correct. Even Percy, who was inarguably the most mild-mannered of the bunch, certainly made his presence known everywhere he went. It had to be a combination of the Weasley trademark blazing red hair and the family's inability to keep their mouths shut. "Speaking of dating…" Harry let his voice trail off as he cocked a brow at Hermione.
Hermione groaned, her head falling back on the couch as her eyes fluttered closed in an overly-dramatic display. "Ugh…don't even get me started."
"What? Dick wasn't all that you'd hoped for?" Harry questioned, his lips pulling up in a teasing smile.
"Richard–" Hermione corrected with a sharp look. He knew damn well what his name was, but took pleasure in the childish humor of the double entendre of her latest flame's name. "– was fine. If you're into the sort of man who lives with mummy and still has his lunch packed for him."
"Are you taking the mickey?" Harry questioned with a lift of his brows, his tone ticking up in disbelief.
Hermione nodded with an exasperated sigh. "I wish I were. He actually tried to bring her on our third date. I declined—obviously." Reaching up she pressed two fingers against her temple, applying pressure to the spot as she took another deep breath. "I don't bloody understand when dating became such a chore"
"At twenty-five," Harry supplied matter-of-factly as he lifted a hand to ruffle through his hair. "That's when people start expecting you to settle down. The pressure does crazy things to people–especially women."
"Right, because you men are just so easy to deal with." She shook her head. "I can literally count on one hand the number of dates I went on and thought 'hey, he's not trying to just shag me.'"
"And you'd be wrong," Harry mumbled.
"I'm serious, Harry." Hermione turned to face her friend, pressing her back against the arm of the couch before dropping her feet in his lap. "Is it too much to ask for true love? I just want to find a wizard who still believes in romance. Who will…I don't know, bring me flowers just because. And who will read poetry–although at this point I'd take him just bloody reading a book on occasion. I want someone who makes me feel like I'm the centre of his universe. Not because I'm famous, but because he loves me."
"Uh…yes. Because true love doesn't bloody exist," Harry laughed. "You watch these crap movies and expect all men to be like Mr Darmy–"
"Darcy—whatever his bloody name is doesn't matter, because he's not real. You have expectations for finding a romantic, handsome, nice bloke to marry who is also good in bed, and believes in saving the bloody planet. I hate to break it to you, but you literally cannot have all five traits in a single person. It's physically impossible," Harry explained, glancing down at her feet that nudged his stomach impatiently.
With a sigh, he reached down and wrapped his hand around one of her feet, knowing she was requesting one of his foot rubs. He didn't understand why she insisted on wearing bloody heels to work when she quite literally ran between the fourth and seventh floors all day long. Obliging, mainly because he didn't want to hear her whine, he dragged his thumbs across the arch of her foot. "If you actually think any of those blokes cared about romance, then you're more gullible than I remember."
Hermione's eyes fluttered closed as he continued to rub, earning him small noises of approval that did awfully strange things to his libido. "And if you think I am not fully aware that they all want sex, then you must think me an idiot. Of course they want sex. I am simply saying that not all men are stupid enough to lead with trying to get me into their beds and might—just maybe-have a genuine interest in getting to know me."
"But, if presented with the opportunity, all of those men would bed you on the first date," Harry pointed out.
"Well, no shit," she quickly replied, pulling her foot from his grasp and she wiggled the one he had not touched closer to his hands. "But would it kill men to at least act like they care about more than what's inside my knickers?"
"Let's not pretend like sometimes a good shag isn't precisely what you're looking for though," Harry teased as his thumbs worked down to the heel of her foot, applying pressure just below her tendon.
"Ahh, right there." Hermione sighed before cracking open one eye to look at him. "And no, I will not deny that a good shag doesn't make dealing with all the crap worth it. Actually, if it wasn't for missing sex, I think I'd rather just be single the rest of my life."
"Wouldn't it be nice if you could just shag someone without the added complications?" Harry mused as he rubbed his thumb one final time down the length of her foot before folding his hands on top of her ankles.
"That would be nearly impossible for us at this point." Hermione lifted her arms above her head as she leaned back over the arch of the couch, slowly stretching back until she could feel her spine pop.
"But why not?" Harry's eyes drifted to her breasts unintentionally, watching the way her hardened nipples strained against her camisole as she stretched, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip briefly. Just as she began to return to a normal position on the couch, he quickly averted his gaze. "It doesn't have to be complicated. It's just a physical act. Like…Quidditch."
"Quidditch?" Hermione lifted a brow at him, her hands tugging down the hemline of her shirt where it had ridden up.
"Yes, Quidditch. A sport. You suit up, you play hard, and leave the field after performing. Simple. No thought put into it. No pressure. Just in and out. Besides, no one wants to go away for the weekend after they play Quidditch. Or asks you to meet their parents," Harry explained. "It's just a game, you know? You shake hands and get on with your life. No big gestures."
Hermione tilted her head to the side, her lips pursing in thought as she pondered his analogy. While she would not have chosen Quidditch as her example—considering it's a team sport—she understood what he meant. When sex was brought into the mix it definitely complicated things. For men it typically meant emotions, and commitment, whereas for her, it meant trying not to end up another notch one some arsehole's bed post. "Yeah. It would be kind of nice."
Harry nodded in agreement, his hands moving from his lap and he threaded his fingers behind his head. "If only…"
Hermione remained silent, letting her mind wander with the possibilities of finding someone she could relieve her frustrations with, without the added bullshite of actually dating them. While it sounded perfect, she knew it was never going to happen. Swinging her legs from Harry's lap, she planted her feet firmly on the floor before rising from the couch.
"Want another?" she questioned as she picked up her beer bottle, giving it a small wave in his direction.
"Sure." Harry leaned forward, snagging the remote to her telly off the coffee table and began to fiddle with the input to change it away from her DVD player. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as she began to pick up their empty beer bottles from the floor, bending over at the waist in his direction like she had a thousand times before. Under normal circumstances he would not have even given her a second glance, but now—after their conversation, and the eyeful he'd gotten of her pert breasts, he couldn't help but admire her shapely backside.
She had a heart-shaped arse. Lean thighs and surprising long legs for her short stature. His cock stirred beneath his jersey shorts as unintentional musings of what it would feel like to have them wrapped around his hips fluttered into his mind.
He watched as she stood up, her bare feet padding across the room towards her tiny kitchen and it was then the idea floated into his mind. It was madness… She'd never agree… but damn it if wasn't brilliant!
"Let's play Quidditch," Harry blurted out, turning on the couch until he was leaning over the back of it to track her movements. The truth was, Hermione was fit. And he trusted her. Not only in the 'with my life' sense, but also in the 'won't run to the press and talk about the size of my cock' sense.
They were both single with no future prospects on the horizon. There really was nothing to say they shouldn't play quidditch with one another.
"What?" Hermione looked over her shoulder, her brow knitting.
"Let's shag like we're playing Quidditch," Harry clarified.
Hermione couldn't stop the laugh that tumbled from her lips as she dropped the empty beer bottles in her recycle bin. "Shut the hell up, Harry."
"No, I'm being serious." Harry crawled over the back of the couch, moving to sit with one leg straddled over each side as he watched her. "Don't laugh. This could actually work! This–" he gestured between them. "—could take all the weirdness out of it. It would be like a transaction. No romance, no emotions. No complications. Just like Quidditch."
"Harry, I don't like you like that," Hermione said as she pulled two bottles from her refrigerator. Setting the cold butterbeers on the counter, she waved her hand across the top, muttering a soft charm to remove the metal caps.
"And I don't like you like that either, which is why it's brilliant!" Harry insisted. "It will just be physical. A means to an end, if you will. You won't have to deal with the dreadful dates to get a bit of relief—if you know what I mean."
"You mean you won't have to deal with dreadful dates. I don't mind a free meal every now and then," Hermione corrected as she picked up their beers and moved toward him, holding out his beer for him to take. "Regardless of how brilliant you think this plan is, I don't even know if I find you attractive."
Harry let out a snort, his lips already wrapped around the bottle. "That's cute," he said as he lowered his beverage. "I'm bloody charming and you know it."
"Well, I do have a thing for emotionally stunted wizards," Hermione teased as she claimed her seat on the couch once again, tucking her feet under herself as she curled up against the arm. "Well, for this to work you would have to find me attractive."
"So you do?"
Harry swung his leg back over the couch, falling back into the spot he had previously occupied. "I mean… sure. We've known each other since we were eleven, so it's a bit different than just saying you're fit."
"See!" Hermione tipped her beer toward him in her exclamation. "You don't,therefore this great plan of yours won't work."
Harry sighed, his hand going up to twist the unruly hair on the back of his head into tips. "Okay, look. Speaking strictly physical. Take out the fifteen years of friendship," Harry paused to take another breath, using the moment to caught her gaze. "Yes. You're very attractive."
Hermione didn't say a word; instead she narrowed her eyes skeptically. Lifting her beer to her lips she took another slow sip, as if waiting for him to blurt out that this was all one giant joke, but when nothing came and the reality that Harry was actually proposing they shag took hold, well - she would have to lying if she didn't think the idea half bad. It made perfect sense for people in their position. She could only imagine dating as The-Boy-Who-Lived could not be easy, especially since dating with her reputation was damn near impossible.
"What do you find attractive?" she finally asked, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.
Harry smirked, his hand sliding down to rest on his neck as he cocked his head to the side, letting his eyes run down her body to rest on her chest as he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. "Uh, well… Your breasts," he said, dragging his attention back up to her eyes.
"Really?" Hermione's voice lifted in surprised as she looked down to her own chest before back up to him. "I've always thought they were too big."
"Merlin no," Harry laughed, his cheeks crimsoning. "What about me? What do you find attractive?"
Her lips pursed in thought as she looked at him. She had spent so long not thinking about him in this manner that she'd never considered the possibility of finding him handsome. Sure, she could admit Harry was a handsome bloke, but she said it in the same sense one might about their cousin, or friend's boyfriend. It was never meant with any intent. "Your eyes are quite nice."
Harry snorted, wincing as he leaned back against the couch cushions. "Ouch. I just confess I find your breasts appealing and you go for my eyes."
"What? They're lovely!" Hermione defended with a laugh. "Okay fine, you've got a nice bum."
Harry nearly choked on his butterbeer, coughing as he set it on the arm of the couch, his hand going to cover his mouth. "M-My bum?"
Hermione could feel her cheeks crimson as she reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Godric's gonads, this was way harder than it should have been. "You can't ask why! Just accept my answer."
Harry nodded, his hands lifting in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. I won't ask," Harry conceded. "I like your eyes too… for a point of reference. Always found them beautiful."
Hermione peaked over at him through her fingers, slowly dropping her hand to her lap. "I like your lips. They're very kissable."
"Your legs," Harry said a bit quicker than he likely should have, but fuck it, they were going all in at this point, right?
Hermione bit her bottom lip, looking down to her thighs as she suppressed a growing smile. "Your chest."
"You've already said that," Hermione pointed out as she looked back up to him.
Harry nodded, taking a large drink from his beer before replying. "I meant it."
They sat in silence for what felt like ages, just staring at one another, letting the tension linger between them. For the first time in her entire friendship with Harry she was seeing him through a lens that felt foreign. He wasn't just her best friend. He was suddenly a man, and one that she was allowing herself to feel attraction for. If they were going to do this—this shagging without feelings thing he proposed-they needed rules.
She wasn't willing to risk losing her best friend over something as stupid as sex. No, that would be inadvisable.
Pushing up off the couch, Hermione set her half drank beer on the coffee table before moving across the room to her rolltop tucked in the corner.
"Uh…what are you doing 'Moine?" Harry questioned, his eyes tracking her across the room. When she began back towards him with a parchment, and a self-inking quill, his brows rose. "I just told you we should shag, not write a bloody paper."
Hermione waved off his question, sticking out her tongue at him as she moved to settle on her knees in front of her coffee table. "I'm not writing a paper, idiot. I'm making rules."
"W-what?" Harry stammered, scooching forward on the couch so he could lean down and peer over her shoulder.
"You heard me. Rules. If we're going to do this, we will need rules." Hermione said pragmatically, her pen already scribbly across the parchment.
"Kissing is too intimate. This isn't about emotions, right?" Hermione clarified as she looked over her shoulder toward Harry.
"Makes sense to me," Harry agreed before shifting off the couch to move onto the floor beside her. "No one can know. If any of our friends found out it would complicate things. And this is supposed to be easy, right?"
"Right," Hermione agreed, her quill moving across the parchment quickly.
No One Knows
"No sleepovers?" Hermione suggested
"But I sleep over now," Harry said, his brows knitting.
"Staying the night because you drank too much is different than sleeping in my bed, Harry." Hermione reached out, pressing the feathered end of the quill against his chest playfully. "This rule just ensures I don't have to pick up after you anymore, so it's really a win-win for me."
"Alright whatever," Harry sighed, batting at the quill. "As long as you add in No Cuddling."
"Sounds fine to me, but I still get foot rubs," Hermione said as her quill quickly moved across the page to add the latest additions.
"No Romance. I don't have to wine and dine you. This is just shagging," Harry said quickly, tapping the paper.
"You're a cheap date anyways. I expect more than the greasy spoon you take your dates to," Hermione teased.
"I do it to weed out the witches who are only after my gold, not my company!" Harry said reaching out to nudge her. "Besides, Kendall's has a great pastrami sandwich."
"With the amount of butter they put on everything, it's a wonder you can taste anything else," Hermione said as she added his request to the list.
She pulled her hand back, looking down the list, her teeth chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip as she mulled over that could be added. While it hit the main points of protecting their friendship, she knew they could take a little more precaution. "What about No Expectations?"
"What do you mean?" Harry questioned, his head cocking to the side. Expectations? His only expectation was that she was willing to shag him! And while it was only one, even he could admit it was already asking a lot.
"I just mean like… I'm not going to turn down going on a date just because we're doing this. There should be no expectations as to when I go to your place, or you come to mine. If I'm busy, I'm busy, and you can't get mad," Hermione explained, twisting her quill thoughtfully between her fingers.
"But you're never busy," Harry pointed out.
"Merlin, I'm just using it as an example," Hermione sighed.
Harry shrugged, taking another large sip from his bottle of butterbeer. "Alright fine, add it if you must."
"But since you brought it up, maybe it would be better if we didn't discuss our dates with each other anymore. At least not until it's serious," Harry suggested, tapping his index finger beneath the line she'd just added.
Hermione's quill was already adding the new rule, but she couldn't help but wonder. "So we're okay to date while we're doing this?"
"Well yeah," Harry replied. "I mean, it's just Quidditch right? I mean, I'd prefer you not have a game with anyone else while we're playing—"
"I wouldn't! What kind of witch do you think I am?" Hermione interrupted, looking up to her friend, her brows risen.
"I think you're an attractive woman who likely has lots of offers on the table she ignores," Harry replied honesty. He couldn't help but notice the slight blush his praise gave her, and while under normal circumstances he might find it cute, now it was rather sexy. His mind wandered, wondering just how far down he could make her blush reach given the right set of circumstances. His teeth sunk into the inside of his bottom lip, holding back a lascivious smirk that threatened to give away his thoughts.
Clearing her throat, Hermione averted her gaze back down to the paper, nodding her head. "Okay. Makes sense. So no bringing it up until it's serious."
No asking about the other person's dates
"And since we'll be going on dates, perhaps we ought to include a no jealousy rule? It's just sex, therefore no reason to get jealous," Hermione suggested, not even bothering to wait for a response before she began to add the eighth entry to their growing list of rules.
Harry nodded, sipping on his beer as he watched her script blossom across the parchment. That rule would, in his humble opinion, be the easiest to follow. This was strictly physical. When she finally met someone, he would happily step aside. After all, she was his best friend! He wanted nothing but her happiness… and well, maybe now to get her undressed as quickly as bloody possible. "Agreed. Just sex."
Hermione tapped her quill on the top of the parchment as she cocked her head in thought, her eyes drifting towards the ceiling as thoughts of what else they could possibly need swirled in her mind. How extensive was this supposed to be? Did she want it to outline detail? That would be rather long considering Harry was not just some boy she knew, but rather her best friend since childhood. Things she would add if this agreement were with anyone else didn't exactly work for the two of them, as their lives were already too intertwined.
"No dates," Harry said, pulling her from her reverie.
"Huh?" Hermione glanced over to Harry, her brow knit.
"No dates," Harry repeated, reaching out to pluck the quill from her hand, and he slid the parchment in front of him, his hand poised, ready to make the addition.
"Wait!" Hermione reached out, wrapping her hand around his wrist. "What the hell do you mean by 'No dates'? We don't go on bloody dates now."
Harry laughed at her panicked interruption. Of course she would want it perfect. "But we go out just the two of us often, right? Dinner, to the cinema, and whatnot. We really shouldn't do that anymore."
"But what if it's with our friends? Does that count as a date?" Hermione slowly released her grip on his wrist. "Because I am not going to not go out with our friends just because you happen to be there."
"I mean… is it like a double date situation? We're meeting Ron's latest fling, or catching up with Neville and Hannah?" Harry lifted a brow.
"I don't think either of those should count. If you look back to rule number two, none of them will know. It will be odd if we suddenly stop declining to be around each other in social settings. Beyond that, you still owe me several drinks from our ongoing pool regarding Ron's ill-fated romances. There's no bloody way I am not cashing in on those." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.
"Are you really more concerned about free drinks than establishing boundaries for this?" Harry laughed, reaching up to adjust his thick-framed glasses on his nose.
"Yes! Those were hard-earned victories!" Hermione replied.
"You literally just had to guess how long his relationship would last!" Harry returned.
"Uh, yeah. And I got it right. Six times in a row, I would like to add," Hermione said matter-of-factly. She wasn't about to let Harry try to weasel out of paying out his wager. Every darn time she lost he made damn sure she paid up; she was only returning the favor.
"I feel like you had an unfair advantage, seeing as you dated him." Harry shook his head, turning his attention back to the parchment, and he began to write the next rule, with her additional caveat, of course.
No going out together—outside of group of friends
"Six months is hardly enough time to afford me an insight," Hermione snorted.
"But you slept with him," Harry pointed out as he dotted his entry.
"Oh Merlin, are you still going to bring that up? Feel free to go bed Ronald. By all means, level the playing field." Hermione sighed with a wave of her hand, leaning back on the couch as she shifted her weight.
"Ew, no," Harry said, scrunching up his nose as he tossed the quill onto the coffee table. "I'm just saying that you absolutely had an advantage. You know how his brain works."
"No more than I know how yours works." Hermione picked up the list, her eyes scanning the nine bullet points curiously. "We need one more."
Harry leaned in to look over her shoulder. "Why? It's perfect," he said before reaching out to pluck the parchment from her fingertips. "This covers everything."
"Because it's an uneven number." Hermione pushed up off the ground, slowly rolling her ankles to rid them of the stiffness that came with sitting cross-legged on the floor.
Harry rolled his eyes, picking up the quill once more. "Right, because that would be absolutely travisty," he murmured as he quickly began to make the last addition.
"Wanting things to end on even number isn't odd, Harry. It's logical and loads of people feel the same," Hermione replied quickly before sticking out her tongue at him. She picked up her butterbeer, drinking what remained in her bottle.
Harry dotted the last line with a flourish before holding it up towards her. "Ten. Happy?"
No Falling in love.
"Do you really think that's necessary?" Hermione questioned, her nose wrinkling.
"You wanted ten!" Harry said with a exasperated sigh, and he slammed the parchment back down on the coffee table, picking up his quill, prepared to strike it out.
"Don't. It's fine! I just think it's a little presumptuous," Hermione said as she reached out, pulling the quill from his fingertips quickly.
"For who?" Harry pushed himself up from the floor, stretching his spine as he rose to his full height. "I know how you women get. Your biological clock gets to ticking and suddenly… boom. Heart eyes."
"Oh sod off." Hermione picked up the parchment, pursing her lips as she looked over the list. She moved slowly across her living room to her roll top, where she pulled out the top drawer and set the parchment inside.
Harry picked up his butterbeer, taking a lazy sip as he watched her walk, his eyes dropping once more to watch the sway of her hips, allowing himself to appreciate her womanly curves for the first time. It wasn't until he saw a flash of bared skin at her waist did he drag his eyes up in time to watch her pull her camisole over her head.
"What are you doing?" Harry blurted out quickly, his eyes running over her back, examining the crisscross of her bra across her shoulder blades.
"Undressing." Hermione didn't even bother to look over to him as she began towards her hallway, letting her top hit the floor on her path towards her bedroom. Her hands moved to her shorts, unlacing the string at her waist before she let them fall to her feet, leaving her in nothing but her bra and black cotton knickers.
Harry stood frozen, his eyes glued to her backside as he watched her walk away from him. Sweet Merlin. He'd seen her in a bathing suit before, but the cut on her bottoms never went quiet that high. Gulping down his momentary stupor, he quickly pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the couch. "So we're doing this?"
"Well, yeah," Hermione said as she glanced over her shoulder. "We just made the rules right?"
"Right," Harry agreed as he tugged down his jersey shorts, leaving him in a pair of fitted blue boxer-briefs. He looked down, his hand adjusting his half-hard cock before he glanced up, a small smirk falling into place when he noticed her eyes had followed the movement of his hand. "So… the couch?" Harry questioned, cocking his head to the side. "It's less intimate."
Hermione pulled her eyes up from his boxers. Her mouth was dry, and she pressed her thighs together. Despite her efforts to play this cool, she couldn't help but feel a small tempo increase in her heartbeat. "I don't want to get a kink in my back. Besides, the lighting is much better in my bedroom," she explained. "Since this is just about shagging, I don't have to worry about hiding my scars."
"Oh… right," Harry said, his forehead wrinkling. She worried about her scars? Merlin, she was bloody gorgeous. Why she thought she had anything to hide was beyond him. Even without shagging, he would have told her that. But now, well, he couldn't very well calm those fears without breaking some of the rules they established. "The bedroom it is."
Hermione turned back around, facing Harry as he began across the room towards her. She could feel her hands tremble and her stomach flutter as he moved closer. It was now or never right? They agreed to this… and he was her friend. She had nothing to hide. Taking a deep breath to gather the remaining courage she needed, her hands rose to the thin zipper that held her sports bra closed and she lowered it quickly. With a shrug of her shoulders, it fell unassisted to her feet.
Any sort of hesitation he had felt instantly vanished. His eyes ran across her exposed breasts, taking in the way they rested against her ribs, the dark pink nipples that were damn near inviting him to taste them. His pulse quickened, and he immediately felt a rush of blood that went straight to his cock. Sweet merciful Merlin, it had been far too long since he'd gotten any.
Hermione watched as his feet slowed until he stopped just an arm's reach from her, his eyes roving her body, leaving a heated trail across her skin. She fought the urge to wrap her arms around her middle and hide the blemishes, but she knew it would be in vain. Harry knew every bloody scar she held, for he was there earning his own beside her. Taking a step back, her bare feet padded on her wooden floor as she moved down the hallway towards her bedroom, feeling a new burst of confidence when she caught that way his eyes dilated as he looked her over. "You coming or not?" she teased before turning her back to him, and she began down towards her room, purposefully swaying her hips a bit more than necessary.